Vengeance
by elizaye
Summary: When a girl's best friend kills her one true love, how far will she go for revenge? "All right then, prove it. Pretend that this man is the culprit, and PROVE that you would have the guts to kill Draco's murderer." Rated M for sex/language.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: **This is the first fanfiction I've ever written. I just couldn't resist when the plot came to mind, so I made myself an account and started writing. I've tried to keep the facts pretty much consistent with the events up until Half-Blood Prince and pretty far into Deathly Hallows, but of course a few bits had to be tweaked to fit my story. Plus, I don't have the books or movies with me so it's hard to check. Just roll with it, I guess.

I'd originally planned to write a quick one-shot, but the story just kept going, and now I've got something much longer than I expected. I'm not sure how much time I want to spend extending it, so I'm posting the prologue here, just to see what kind of a reaction I get. Read and review! Thanks :)

**Disclaimer:** I don't really see why this is necessary, since people on this site should know that it's full of fanfics and therefore should also know that these stories are written by fans of the original author's work... but anyway, NO, i do not own the characters or places or spells or anything else from the Harry Potter universe used in this story.

Without further ado, here is my first fanfic. Hope you like it!

**Vengeance**

Prologue

_She walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a small towel and saw him sitting on the edge of the bed, putting his tie back on. He looked up and saw her, and his eyes darkened with lust._

"_You know, you still owe me another apology," he said._

"_You just forgave me. What do you want now?"_

"_It's not the same thing. You never apologized for third year."_

"_Are you bloody serious?" she said, rolling her eyes. "It was a punch, that was all."_

_He smirked. "I could care less about being punched. It was what you called me that I wanted you to apologize for. It hurt my feelings, love."_

_She smiled playfully._

"_Well then, let me fix that."_

_She walked over to the bed and stood facing him._

"_I can apologize for hitting you, but I won't apologize for what I called you."_

"_Why not?"_

"_Because you…" She smirked in a manner that was not unlike her love's famous smirk as she pushed him back a little on the bed and straddled his legs "…really are, a foul…"_

_She pressed her lips to his forehead._

"…_loathsome…"_

_Her lips touched his left cheek._

"…_evil…"_

_Her lips grazed his right cheek._

"…_little…"_

_Her lips caressed the tip of his nose._

"…_cockroach…"_

_She placed the lightest kiss on his lips._

"…_and I love you even more for it."_

_Draco smiled and pulled her down for a long kiss, and she lost herself in the whirlwind of sensations that he created in her as he ran his hands up and down her body, lingering in all the right places._

_Then he broke the kiss, and she smiled reluctantly. He lifted her up off him and let her steady herself on the ground before releasing her._

"_I really have to go," he said quietly._

"_Yes, I know. I should go too," she said. "Harry and Ron could wake up any minute, and if I'm not there when they do…"_

_Draco nodded, and Hermione turned to get dressed. Then his arms wrapped around her from behind, squeezing tightly._

"_Draco? What's wrong?"_

"_It's coming. I know it's coming."_

"_What's coming?" Hermione asked, even though she already knew what it was._

"_The end. The last battle. It's coming. Are you three any closer to finishing off the rest of…them?"_

"_Draco, we promised not to talk about our places in the war. I know you mean well, but…" her voice trailed off._

_He nodded. "I'm sorry. I should let you get dressed."_

_He kissed her neck, and then his warmth receded from her body. She shivered and wished that those arms would wrap around her again. She got dressed quickly and turned around to see him holding his wand up, prepared to Apparate. He raised a hand to wave goodbye to her._

_Hermione smiled grimly and walked over to him to kiss him one more time._

She hadn't known that that would be the last time.

* * *

**Author's Note: **What do you think? I know it was pretty short and that all my rambling on either end of this prologue is probably longer than the prologue itself, but I've got quite a few chapters lined up where that came from. I'd like some input from you guys to help me decide whether or not to keep them coming. So if you want to keep reading, write a review! Or a personal message, whatever floats your boat.

Thanks for reading!


	2. I Casualties

**Author's Note: **I promise, there won't be an obnoxiously long author's note in front of every chapter. This may be the last one. Anyway... In case it's unclear, _italics_ are used for flashbacks, Hermione's thoughts, and placing emphasis on words when characters are speaking. Just thought I'd put it out there to keep you guys from getting confused. This first chapter is somewhat lengthier than the prologue, so you'll get a better feel for my style. Hope you like it!

**Disclaimer: **The only stuff I own here is the plot!

Read and review! :)

**I. Casualties**

Jets of red and green light flew in all directions. Chaos reigned. She pointed her wand at the Death Eater lying flat on his back, the one she had just disarmed, and didn't even hesitate before uttering the words that ended his life. "Avada Kedavra!"

She rushed back deeper into the cover of the woods and collided with another Death Eater. He immediately backed away from her and lifted his wand, pointing it right at her neck, words already forming on his lips. Her eyes widened as she recognized the man behind the mask, and when he lowered his wand the slightest bit, she knew he recognized her too.

Then she heard an extremely familiar voice shout the lethal words from behind her, and she couldn't hold back the scream.

"Nooooooo!"

A flash of green light.

When she finally dared open her eyes, he had already crumpled to the ground, limp. Someone was pulling her arm, trying to get her to move, but she fell to her knees. The only thing she could see was that pair of empty, silver eyes.

Images flashed through her brain, almost too fast for her to register. Their long first kiss. His face, filled with rage after she'd slapped him. Running together through these very trees to their favorite hiding place. The day he said those three words to her… the words that had changed her world.

"Hermione! Hermione! Aw, hell—HERMIONE!"

She allowed herself to be dragged to her feet by a strong set of hands, but as soon as she could stand she tugged her hand free. Harry stared at her, a worried look on his face. Her wand was pointed directly at him, and she wanted more than anything to end him.

"Hermione—bloody hell, what do you think you're doing?" Harry demanded, a hint of panic in his voice.

A Killing Curse shot from behind Hermione hit the tree right by Harry's head, and he dove to the side, but Hermione didn't even flinch. She saw him gaping at her and knew she must have looked completely mental. Then she was being shoved farther on into the Forbidden Forest by Ron.

"Harry—_get up!_" Ron shouted hoarsely.

Hermione didn't struggle, just ran onward behind Ron, crashing through the forest, which steadily grew denser and denser. Branches and brambles battered at Hermione's limbs and face, but she didn't feel a thing—nothing was enough to distract her from the empty ache in her chest.

They somehow arrived at Number 12, Grimmauld Place in one piece. Before either of the two could say anything to her, Hermione raced upstairs, knocking over the umbrella stand in her hurry. She slammed her door on Mrs. Black's furious screams and threw herself on the small bed.

Dead. He was dead. He had vowed never to leave her, had promised that they would always be together. Why had she made it out alive? How could she go on, knowing that she would never see that beautiful face again? He was dead, but her eyes were dry.

_She couldn't stop laughing as he led her deeper and deeper into the forest. They hadn't had a chance to be together in far too long, and just being alone with him was making her feel giddy._

_Finally they reached their destination: a small clearing far into the woods._

_As far as they knew, no other students knew about this clearing; Hagrid had probably happened upon it before, but they had never run into him there. A few chance encounters with centaurs had startled them in the past, but Hermione was able to use her vast knowledge to impress Firenze, Bane and, sometime later, a few other centaurs. When Magorian, the leader, chanced upon them, he unexpectedly decided to let them stay, out of respect for the surprisingly intelligent human._

_Draco stopped and wrapped his arms around Hermione so tightly that she thought she would suffocate._

"_Draco—I can't breathe," she wheezed._

_He loosened his hold on her only slightly. "I can't bear to be away from you for so long. It's been more than a week since we were last here."_

"_I know. You're not the only one who feels like every second we spend apart is painful."_

_Draco kissed her lips, and she cupped his cheeks with her hands._

"_Why haven't you been able to come?" he asked. "I tried you so many nights."_

"_My roommates keep staying up late, discussing boys. I can't just tell them I'm going out on prefect duty all the time. They wouldn't believe me."_

_Draco sighed. "I hate your roommates."_

"_Yeah well, I hate the Inquisitorial Squad."_

_The corners of his mouth turned down. "I'm sorry. I—"_

"_I don't want you to apologize. It's just…"_

"_Everyone would know that something was fishy if I wasn't in it," said Draco softly. "People would start to suspect… and then they might find out about us."_

_Hermione sighed heavily. "Yes, I know."_

_They stood locked in an embrace for a short while, and then Draco spoke._

"_That Umbridge, I can't stand her or her bowtie, or her cats. I can't stand any of it. I never thought I'd commend any of your redheaded friends, but the Weasley twins had the right idea."_

_Hermione laughed. "They're something, aren't they."_

_He buried his nose in her hair and inhaled. Then he whispered, "I've missed this smell so much."_

_Hermione tugged lightly on the hair at the nape of his neck, and he let out a low growl, backing up to attack her mouth with his._

No… if she kept thinking about this, she'd be bawling in no time. She couldn't fall apart, not yet.

Hermione heard voices downstairs and knew that she had to check on the aftermath of the battle, to see who else had survived. She was surprised that Harry and Ron hadn't already come up to ask her what had happened to her, but she could guess that they were putting their heads together to figure out what was wrong.

She opened the bedroom door and made her way down the stairs. It was silent, and Mrs. Black was hidden behind the curtains again.

"Hermione," Ron said. He sounded surprised to see her.

"Oh, Hermione." Harry turned around. He looked nervous.

She kept her eyes on Ron. "Has anyone else made it back?"

Ron shook his head. "No, not yet." He glanced sideways at Harry and then said, "Hermione, about what happened… in the forest…"

Hermione slapped a fake smile onto her face and said, "What happened?"

Harry blinked. "You… you pointed your wand at me, like you were going to attack me."

"I—I did?" Hermione feigned ignorance. "Oh, god. I did, didn't I?" She looked up to see Harry and Ron staring at her, worry written over both their faces.

"Hermione… what are you going on about?" Ron finally managed to ask.

"I don't remember—I must have pointed the wand at Harry because he'd just used a Killing Curse. I kept seeing green lights flashing, and I just… couldn't take it anymore. I mean, look at me. I'm _still_ shaking."

Little did they know that her trembling had a lot more to do with the murder of a certain silver-eyed man than the chaos of the battlefield.

Harry looked relieved. "For a moment back there, I thought you were going to _kill_ me."

"Oh Harry, I'm so sorry," said Hermione, trying to sound as sincere as possible. Harry stepped forward and hugged her, and a surge of loathing for her lover's murderer swelled in her chest.

Then the door burst open, prompting Harry to back away from Hermione, and she was able to breathe freely again.

George rushed into the room and immediately raced toward the kitchen, ignoring Mrs. Black's furious wails about Mudbloods and blood traitors. He was holding someone in his arms, but he'd been running so fast that they hadn't seen the victim's face, and Harry and Ron rushed after him to help.

Hermione had caught a swish of long, flaming red hair, and knew that the victim was Ginny. Instead of going after George, she helped the other person on the doorstep into the room.

"Neville! Are you all right?"

He certainly didn't _look_ all right—his face was pale and contorted in pain, and his whole body trembled. He limped into the room, leaning heavily on Hermione. She kicked the front door shut and helped him toward the kitchen, ignoring Mrs. Black's continued railing. They got inside and closed the kitchen door behind them, muffling the howling outside.

"Ginny—is she okay?" Neville choked out.

"Just be quiet and let me look at you," said Hermione.

Her mind seemed to process Neville's injuries and produce the correct healing spells to ease the pain and wipe away bruises and cuts without any input from her conscious self—she could hardly stop herself from picturing _his_ empty eyes, staring up at her.

"The snake," Neville wheezed, "I killed it."

"Yes, I saw. That was amazing, Neville, really. But please, just hold still," said Hermione, her mouth moving without input from her brain.

Harry and George were both muttering spells over Ginny's excessive wounds while Ron backed away to give them room.

"Hermione—help," George said urgently.

Hermione looked away from Neville and stepped over to Ginny, gently pressing George out of the way. He moved around her to check on Neville. Hermione began a new set of spells, still without conscious thought on her part.

"Are you okay?" she heard Ron ask. He tapped her shoulder, and she realized that he was talking to her.

"Yes, I'm fine," she snapped. Ron backed off, looking hurt. "I'm sorry," said Hermione, without really feeling sorry. The response came as automatically as the spells that were flowing wordlessly from her wand.

Harry had put his wand to the side and was now just watching Hermione work her magic. Color returned to Ginny's face as her wounds closed and her circulation improved, and Harry relaxed visibly. Hermione was gripped by a sudden desire to kill Ginny, just to crush that happy emotion so apparent on Harry's face. She controlled herself and allowed the healing spells the keep flowing.

"Who's… who's still alive?" Ron asked his brother and Neville.

"We saw McGonagall go down," Neville said.

Hermione's face fell. Professor McGonagall had always been her favorite teacher, next to Professor Flitwick. The room was silent except for the faint screams of Mrs. Black from outside.

Hermione put her wand away and broke the silence. "I think Ginny will be all right for now, but we will definitely want an adult to check her over soon."

No one responded, and she noticed that all eyes were on George, who was shaking.

"George? What's happened?" asked Harry tentatively.

George looked up at Ron. "We're the only—the only—" his throat constricted, and he looked down, struggling to compose himself.

"The only what?" Ron demanded, eyes wide with fear and apprehension.

"Mum—Mum and Dad—"

"No! No, no, no, NOO!" Ron hollered.

"Ron, calm down!" said Harry, running around the table to grab Ron as he started to move towards the door. "Ron, stop! Stop it!"

Without thinking, Hermione pointed her wand at Ron and said, "Petrificus Totalus!"

Ron was immobilized, and Harry caught him before he fell to the floor.

"Hermione—what are you doing?" Harry asked her. George still seemed incapable of speech.

"I… well it was a lot easier to stop him this way than for you two to wrestle with each other like that. The last thing we want is for him to rush back out to Hogwarts and get himself killed," Hermione reasoned. She turned to George and asked, "Who is left?"

George clenched his jaw a few times before finally speaking, but he had much more control over his voice this time. "I don't know how many are left. Mum and Dad are both—both gone. Bill and Charlie, and Fleur, and Percy. And Fred!" His eyes welled up as he spoke his twin's name. "All gone!" he cried.

Hermione reached forward to pull him into a short hug. He patted her back appreciatively, and then she backed away. Harry had fallen into a seat at the table, processing the fact that the only Weasleys left alive were Ron, George, and Ginny. Neville didn't seem to know what to say, so he just stared at the ground solemnly.

Hermione knew that the news was supposed to make her feel much, much worse than she felt about it at the moment, but she couldn't seem to focus on much more than the fact that her Draco was lost to her, lost forever. Nothing could override that foremost thought in her head.

Oh, the irony. She would probably improve at Occlumency, something that Draco had been trying to teach her for months, now that she had something to focus her entire mind on. Sadly, he would not be there to see it.

Then they heard the screams outside finally subside.

"Someone's here," said Hermione, drawing her wand. George's wand was still in his hand. Harry got to his feet and pulled Ron out of the way of the door.

Then the door opened, and an exhausted Arthur Weasley stepped into the room.

"Dad!" George cried out. "I thought you'd—you'd—"

"Stunned, is all. I—your mum—I couldn't even—"

"Mr. Weasley, please sit down," said Hermione. She levitated an empty glass from the kitchen counter and murmured, "Aguamenti."

"Thank you, Hermione." Mr. Weasley took the cup from her and drank. Then he glanced to the side and jumped to his feet. "Ronald!"

Everyone jumped; they'd forgotten that Ron was still lying on the ground, eyes bulging as he strained to break free of the Body-Binding Curse.

Harry gasped and pointed his wand at his best friend. "Finite Incantatem!" he cried.

Ron leaped to his feet and gave Hermione a murderous glare, but when he finally spoke, his words were directed at his father. "Dad… is it true? Are we the only ones left?"

Mr. Weasley fell back into his seat and hung his head. Ron turned away and strode toward the fireplace, and no one followed. They knew he wanted to be alone.

Hermione sat down at the table, exhausted, and rested her forehead on her arms.

_A chair was pulled out across the table from her, and Hermione looked up to see Malfoy taking a seat._

"_What are you doing here?" she hissed._

"_Not that it's any of your business, Granger, but usually when I come to the library, it's to get some work done."_

_She glared at him. "I meant, why are you sitting with me?"_

"_If you hadn't noticed, most of the library is full. If I had another option, I wouldn't be here."_

"_You could always go back to your common room."_

"_As if you could drive me away," said Malfoy, smirking._

_Hermione sighed and started gathering her books. She was already exhausted from long hours of studying, and the last thing she needed was to get in another argument with the slimy git. She hadn't been able to stop thinking about him since the Yule Ball several weeks ago, but he hadn't tried to get her alone since._

_It was as if that night had never happened—the only thing that convinced her that something had happened between them was the absence of the pair of underwear that he had taken away with him. But at this point, she was willing to believe that she'd simply dreamed up the whole scene and coincidentally lost that same pair of underwear._

"_Are you really going to run away, like a coward? So much for Gryffindor bravery," Malfoy taunted._

_She glared at him. "I'm done working for now, so I'm going to turn in. I'm tired."_

"_Studying too hard lately, hmm?"_

"_What do you care?"_

_Malfoy leaned across the table, snatched her Potions textbook, and started leafing through it._

_Hermione held out her hand. "Give that back, Malfoy."_

_He raised an eyebrow. "What if I don't?"_

"_I'll hex you, that's what. Give it."_

"_Fine."_

_Malfoy passed the textbook to her, and after putting it in her bag with her other books, Hermione marched swiftly out of the library._

_When she returned to Gryffindor Tower, she took her potions book out and continued scratching away on a piece of parchment. Then Ron walked by the table and accidentally knocked her book over—a corner of the book had been protruding over the edge of the desk. A folded scrap of parchment fell out._

"_Sorry," said Ron, picking up the book and handing it to her. His eyes fell to the piece of parchment on the ground, and Hermione picked it up. "What is that?" he asked._

"_It's none of your business, and besides, I thought you weren't talking to me," said Hermione._

_Ron muttered darkly as he walked away, and Hermione managed to catch something about bushy hair, touchiness, and Victor Krum. She shook her head and ignored him, looking instead at the small piece of parchment in her hand._

_She slowly unfolded it and saw, in elegant script, "Meet me at half past one, where you last saw me today."_

_Hermione blinked a few times and looked around. No one had noticed the note she was reading. She carefully tucked it in her pocket and kept writing, but her mind was partially occupied by a debate._

_Should she meet him? Her body quivered in anticipation; she'd been reliving that night in her dreams, and she always woke up with the same wetness between her legs and the same ache low in her belly. But she couldn't meet him! He was Draco Malfoy, son of a Death Eater, and well on his way to becoming one himself!_

_She closed her eyes for a minute, trying to clear her head. She needed to finish this assignment for Potions. It wasn't due until Friday of next week, but she still wanted to get it done so that she could finish rereading the Arithmancy textbook._

_Around eleven thirty, people slowly started trickling out of the common room. Hermione was halfway done with her Potions essay, and still she was struggling to make up her mind._

_Finally, at half past midnight, Parvati and Lavender got up from their seats on the couches._

"_Don't stay up too late, Hermione," said Parvati._

"_I won't."_

_The best friends went up the staircase to the girls' dormitories, leaving Hermione alone in the common room. She turned her attention back to her dilemma. Should she go or not?_

_About twenty minutes later, she groaned and slammed her book in frustration. She would go down and meet him, but only to tell him that she wanted nothing more to do with him. She would tell him off for bothering her and make it very clear that she would hex him into oblivion if he ever tried anything with her again._

_With this in mind, she worked feverishly until it was half past one—she found that she rather enjoyed idea of making him wait for her. She put down her quill, rolled up the piece of parchment that she'd been writing on, and closed the book. Then she stood and exited through the portrait hole._

_The walk to the library felt shorter than it had ever been before, and soon she was striding over to the table where she had sat earlier that day._

_It was empty._

_What time was it? She was supposed to be the late one. How late was she? Had he left already? Then she sighed. How did she not catch that before? He probably hadn't even planned on showing up; he just wanted to mess with her head by making her think that he wanted to see her again. She glared at the spot where he'd been sitting before._

_Then arms circled her from behind, and she jumped in surprise. His breath was hot against her ear._

"_You're late, Hermione."_

_She shuddered the same way as she had when she'd first heard him utter her name._

"_Get your hands off me," she said evenly._

"_I would… but is that really what you want?"_

_Before Hermione could respond, he had turned her around, captured her lips with his, and pulled her up against him tightly. She wanted to scream, wanted to bite his tongue when it slipped into her mouth and began to explore, wanted to reach into her robes and pull out her wand to hex him as she'd promised herself she would._

_But she didn't._

_Instead, she moaned into his mouth and slid her hands underneath his shirt to run across his smooth skin, stretched over well-developed muscles. One of his hands was fisted in her hair, and he deepened the kiss. She gently ground her hips against his once, and he groaned, lifting his mouth away from hers. She kissed along his jaw and then down the side of his neck, simultaneously undoing the buttons on his shirt. She left open-mouthed kisses on his now exposed collarbone and felt such a strange sense of satisfaction as he moaned her name softly._

_She, Hermione Granger, had power over Draco Malfoy._

_But she didn't enjoy this power for long; he ripped her shirt off and shrugged off his own, and when his arms circled back around her, the feeling of his skin against hers put her on fire. She felt surrounded by him, and it felt so warm, so safe._

_She lifted her head and tentatively licked his lips. With a low growl he kissed her, hard, and she pressed up against him. She felt his arousal against her thigh and a thrill coursed through her. His hands were caressing her back, and she sucked on his lower lip._

_Then Malfoy pulled away from her, and her eyes snapped open. She blinked, waiting impatiently for him to spit out whatever he had to say so that she could taste those lips again._

"_You're mine," he breathed. "Say that you're mine."_

"_I'm yours," Hermione said without hesitation._

"_Good."_

"Hermione—what's wrong with her? Hermione!"

She opened her eyes to find that she had dozed off, sitting at the kitchen table. She sat up languidly.

"I'm sorry. I've just…" she looked around to see several new faces at the table.

Apparently she had taken a seat beside Mr. Weasley before falling asleep. Neville was still in his original seat, on Mr. Weasley's other side. Ron, George, and Ginny sat across from them. Harry was sitting on Hermione's other side—he had been the one who'd shaken her awake.

Farther down the table, she saw Luna Lovegood, Terry Boot, Michael Corner, and Ernie Macmillan—since they hadn't known where Grimmauld Place was, Lupin must have taken them along. Had they been the only survivors? So few…

At the head of the table sat Lupin, and Hermione smiled when she saw his familiar face. "Professor Lupin," she said.

"We all know I haven't been a professor for a long time," said Lupin tiredly.

"Is this… are we the only ones left?" asked Hermione.

"Some of our side were captured alive, mostly students, but not many were still fighting when I came here. I think Voldemort is keeping them alive to offer them a choice to join him."

Harry's face twisted in disgust. "I'm gonna kill him," he hissed.

Hermione had the urge to shove her wand right up against Harry's neck and kill him right there. She bit back the impulse and asked, "Then… Kingsley, Tonks, Professor McGonagall…?"

"Dead," said Lupin, his face devoid of emotion.

Everyone was staring either down at the table or up at Lupin.

Finally, Lupin broke the silence. "Let's all go upstairs to rest. It's been a very long night. We'll have time to discuss a new direction tomorrow."

"We—we can't go home now, can we?" Ernie asked.

"It's not safe," said Mr. Weasley.

"But what about our families? If we're not safe, surely they aren't either. Shouldn't we be doing something to protect them?" asked Terry.

"Voldemort will not be able to reach every family tonight. Rest. You all need it," Lupin stated firmly. "Upstairs, now. All of you."

Hermione got to her feet and stepped out of the room. A number of footsteps followed her as she went up the stairs and into the room where she and Ginny stayed.

"Luna, come on in," said Hermione. "There might not be enough rooms for everyone. You can share a bed with me."

"All right, then" said Luna, absentmindedly following Hermione into the bedroom.

Hermione was about to close the door when she saw Ron approaching. She managed a smile.

"What are you doing?"

"I just… wanted to say good night," said Ron.

"Oh. Good night," said Hermione.

When Ron didn't show any signs of leaving, she stepped out of the room and closed the door behind her. The others had trudged up another floor, leaving her and Ron alone on this landing. Harry had already gone into his and Ron's room.

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

Ron leaned forward, and before Hermione knew it, his lips were on hers. She closed her eyes and tried to pretend she was kissing Draco's lips, but even as that possibility crossed her mind, she knew that it couldn't be him.

These lips were coarse, dry, and very, very hesitant. No, Draco would never kiss her like that.

She opened her eyes and pushed him away from her. He looked surprised and extended a hand toward her.

"Ronald, _don't_ touch me," she hissed.

"Hermione…" Ron mumbled, looking hurt.

Hermione took a deep breath. "I don't know where you got the impression that you could kiss me, but you should wipe that notion out of your head, all right?"

Ron's eyes hardened and he glared at her. "As if I liked you all that much anyway!" he said angrily, storming back toward his room.

Hermione almost felt sorry for him. It wasn't really his fault. He didn't know that she was deeply in love with someone else—how could she have told him, or Harry? They never would have understood.

But if Harry had known, maybe he wouldn't have killed Draco tonight.

Hermione dismissed that notion immediately. If Harry and Ron had known, they would have secretly started hunting for Draco, trying to kill him so that she wouldn't be influenced by him anymore. They would have felt that her relationship with Draco affected her contribution to the war effort.

Then Ginny opened the door behind her, interrupting her thoughts.

"Hermione, aren't you coming in?"

"You two go on and sleep. I have to talk to Lupin. Don't wait for me," said Hermione, turning to face the room.

"Look out for Wrackspurts. I thought I felt one in the kitchen earlier," said Luna from behind Ginny.

Hermione shook her head, smiling. "I'll be careful. Good night."

"Good night," said Ginny, closing the bedroom door.

Hermione sighed, returning to her thoughts from before.

No, it was highly unlikely that confiding in Harry and Ron would have saved Draco. Either way, it was too late, and now, there was only one thing left for her to do.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Love it, hate it, don't really care about it? Write a review and let me know! Suggestions are appreciated. If you think it's awful, please don't be too mean.

Thanks for reading, and I can't wait to hear from you!


	3. II Memory

**Author's Note:** I had no idea what to title this chapter and settled for "Memory" since the bigger half of it is a flashback. If you've got a better idea after reading it, tell me in a review, or a personal message. If I like a suggestion, I'll edit the title.

**Disclaimer: **I own only the plot. These characters and their wonderful world belong to J.K. Rowling.

Read and review! :)

**II. Memory**

Hermione walked down the steps and went toward the kitchen. Mr. Weasley and Lupin were both standing by the fireplace, and when she opened the door, they spun around, wands raised.

"Oh Hermione, it's you," said Lupin, putting his wand away. "What are you doing down here? I thought—"

"I don't think I can sleep right now," said Hermione.

"But Hermione, you look exhausted. And you fell asleep when we were waiting for other survivors to arrive," said Mr. Weasley. "You should go upstairs and get some sleep."

Hermione sat at the table stiffly and said, "I have a proposal to make."

The two men exchanged glances before moving to the table and sitting across from her. Hermione looked up at Lupin, then at Mr. Weasley, but found she couldn't speak while she was looking into their eyes. She focused on the table instead, and they waited patiently.

"Snape… he died too, didn't he?" she asked softly.

Another exchanged glance.

"Yes," Lupin answered. He seemed to know where this was going.

"We're going to need another spy," said Hermione, surprised at how steady her voice was.

"Are—are you daft? What makes you think that _You-Know-Who_ would trust you?" Mr. Weasley exclaimed.

"Arthur, calm down," said Lupin, but his eyes betrayed the steadiness in his voice. He flicked his wand, and the door to the kitchen swung shut. Then he said, "Hermione, please explain why you want to do this."

"Remus, you can't be serious."

"Let's just hear her out," said Lupin, and Mr. Weasley looked at the table, resigned.

Hermione bit her lip and said, "I invented a story."

"You invented a story," Mr. Weasley repeated incredulously, shaking his head.

"Yes. I'm going to pretend that… that…"

She drew a deep breath. How could she be too weak to continue? No, not now. She couldn't seize up, now that she had already gotten their attention.

She composed herself and started over, "I'm going to pretend that I'm in love with _Draco Malfoy_." She spat out the last two words as if they burned her tongue.

Mr. Weasley's jaw dropped. Lupin's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Continue," said Lupin. He seemed to be attempting to hide his interest.

"Malfoy—he died tonight. I think one of us killed him." She tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. "I will tell Voldemort that I want revenge on the people who killed him."

"Do you honestly think that You-Know-Who would fall for that?" Mr. Weasley asked, recovering from the shock that Hermione would come up with such a plan.

"Hermione, you do know that Voldemort is a very powerful Legilimens, don't you? Maybe one of the most powerful. He'll see that you're lying right away, and then he'll kill you," said Lupin.

"I—I've been practicing Occlumency. When Harry was getting his lessons with Snape, I decided I should learn it too."

"Occlumency isn't something you can practice on your own," said Lupin. "A Legilimens must have been there to train you."

"I asked Snape for help," said Hermione. "Even he said that I was getting better."

"You may be the brightest witch of your age, but it's impossible that you've become a good enough Occlumens to hold off against Voldemort in a struggle of the minds."

"Lupin, I can do it. I have enough will power," said Hermione. "Trust me."

"Hermione," Lupin said gently, "I'm telling you right now, the answer is no. We won't let you go."

Hermione folded her arms across her chest. When she spoke, her voice was hard.

"I'm not saying that I want to do this for fun. I _know_ how dangerous it is, and I know that I can get hurt, or killed. But I want us to defeat Voldemort and win the war. It was hard enough when we still had Snape on the inside, and now that he's gone, it's going to be even harder for us just to defend ourselves against him, let alone attack and _kill_ him. We need information from someone on the inside. We _need_ this."

Lupin was silent after her tirade. He had finally looked away from her, fixing his eyes on the imperfect surface of the table. Mr. Weasley looked as though he wanted to protest, but no words came from his mouth. He looked so tired, so broken.

Hermione remembered how cheerful Ron's father had always been, and the sight of this distraught, torn man made her chest twist painfully. She reminded herself that he'd lost his wife, four sons, and a daughter-in-law to the war. It was no wonder that he didn't want her to go undercover—Harry and Hermione had been like another son and daughter to the Weasleys.

When it seemed neither man would speak, Hermione knew that something had to be said to convince them. "I know it's dangerous," she repeated. Lupin looked back up at her, and she said, "Honestly, is there any other option? Harry's always been lousy at Occlumency—he said so himself. And besides, he _can't_ go anyway, because they would try to kill him on sight. No one else here is an Occlumens, so I am the only option."

"You should spend some more time considering this," said Lupin.

Mr. Weasley shook his head. "There is no way—_no way_—I will let you become a spy among You-Know-Who's followers."

Hermione took a deep breath and stood up. "I came here out of respect, and also to tell the two of you that I am leaving. I didn't come to ask for permission. I'm of age, so I can make my own decisions. Besides, neither of you are my guardians, so you don't have the right to tell me what to do."

"Hermione, sit down," said Lupin. "Please," he added when Hermione didn't move.

She took her seat.

Lupin sighed and rubbed his forehead wearily. "I don't want to see you leave and never come back."

"I'm sorry, but we're just going to have to take that chance."

"Did you tell Harry and Ron?" asked Mr. Weasley.

Hermione shook her head, feeling that she was on the verge of success. "No, and I don't intend to. At least, not until it's absolutely necessary. I don't want more people to worry about me than are needed."

"What would you have us tell them, then?" asked Lupin. "And what if you die tonight? Would you regret leaving without saying goodbye?"

"I… don't know. I haven't had time to think about that."

"Hermione, please. At least spend another day here to think it over. We have to plan out what you'll say, predict what Voldemort might ask."

"Remus, you don't really—we're not—Hermione, please don't go," said Mr. Weasley.

"I've made up my mind, and I know what I'm doing," said Hermione. "I'm leaving now. I don't want to lose any time."

"One night will not make that big a difference."

Hermione looked down at the table, knowing what it would take to make them believe that she could possibly pull this off. Showtime.

She looked up and said in a whisper, "Please just let me go." Tears rose easily to her eyes—all she had to do was envision his empty eyes. She blinked hard, forcing the tears back, as if she wanted to hide her emotional weakness.

Lupin and Mr. Weasley were staring at her, trying to decipher whether or not this was for real.

She reached up to wipe away a stray tear and took a deep breath, acting as if she were trying to maintain control over her emotions. When she spoke again, it was in a firm voice, "I can't stay here, not anymore. Tonight, one of your people killed Draco—_my_ Draco—and if you don't let me kill that bastard _right now_, I will leave. And when I return, _all_ of you will pay."

Mr. Weasley just blinked. Lupin wouldn't take his eyes off hers, so she fixed her gaze on him.

"Do you think I'm bluffing? You don't _believe_ that I would fall in love with a Death Eater, is that it? We've been in love for _years_. Even before he was a Death Eater, he was mine, and I was his."

Lupin shook his head, finally looking away. "Hermione, stop."

She slammed her fists on the table and stood up. "No, I won't stop! I won't stop because my one true love is _gone_ and you won't let me avenge him!"

"Stop, stop, stop. Please," said Lupin.

Hermione reined in her emotions and sat back down. She maintained a calm and collected appearance on the outside, but inside, she was quaking with fear. What if she had gone too far? Lupin wasn't stupid. Maybe he had seen the truth. Maybe she had let out too much of herself, and he had caught on that that had been the _real_ Hermione, that those had been her _real_ emotions.

"That almost looked rehearsed," Mr. Weasley finally commented.

"Of course. I've been going over in my head all of the things that I should say, the manner in which I should act. Believe me, I wouldn't have decided to leave if I didn't think I was prepared."

"Very well, then," said Lupin. "You have made up your mind and, as you correctly pointed out, Arthur and I have no legal power to stop you. But please, think of yourself before you act. Don't be reckless."

"I won't."

"After Snape, I'm sure Voldemort will be twice as careful about trusting anyone who could possibly be associated with the Order. I sincerely hope your Occlumency is powerful. Snape was able to hide his true loyalties from Voldemort until the very end, but he had years of experience and training."

Hermione nodded and stood up. "Lupin, Mr. Weasley… thank you. For everything. You've been invaluable to me, as friend and family. And if I really don't return, please tell everyone that I'm sorry. I will find a way to contact you if I'm alive—I promise."

The two men also stood. Lupin reached across the table and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Take care," he said. "Value your life. As long as you live, there will be hope."

Mr. Weasley just looked at her miserably, and she tried to give him a comforting smile.

Then she turned around and walked out of the room, closing the kitchen door gently behind her. She crept quietly upstairs to her room, where she swiftly, silently packed a few things in a backpack.

Ginny shifted. "Hermione?"

"Shh, don't wake up Luna," Hermione whispered.

"Where are you going?" Ginny whispered back.

"Away. I have something to do."

Ginny sat up. "It's the middle of the night. What are you going to do?"

"Go back to sleep. Lupin will explain in the morning. You can't come with me," Hermione hissed.

"No—why would you be leaving in the middle of the night without saying goodbye to anyone? Are you leaving on a mission?"

"We already got all the Horcruxes. What kind of a mission could I be going on?" said Hermione.

The last Horcrux, Nagini, had been slain by Neville mere hours ago, and he had almost been hit with a dozen Killing Curses in the process. Just how he had gotten back out of there unscathed was still a mystery to Hermione.

"How should I know?" Ginny whispered.

Hermione bit back her reply as Luna shifted in her sleep. Both of them stared at the sleeping girl until they were sure that she was still asleep.

Ginny opened her mouth to speak, but Hermione pointed her wand at the girl and muttered, "Petrificus Totalus."

Ginny's eyes widened in shock as she fell back onto the bed, frozen in place.

"I'm so sorry, Ginny," Hermione whispered, moving over to pull the covers up over her friend. "If there were any way around this… When Luna wakes up in the morning, she'll free you, I'm sure. Please forgive me."

She exited the house not a minute later and took a deep breath. To the Malfoy Manor.

She Apparated in front of a set of wrought-iron gates that instantly shifted to form a mouth.

"Who trespasses?"

"Hermione Granger."

In the blink of an eye, three Death Eaters had appeared, surrounding her, wands trained on her.

Refusing to show her trepidation, Hermione slowly reached into her robes. The Death Eaters waited with bated breath as she very, very slowly pulled out her wand by the tip. She knew they would be suspicious of her. Moving as slowly as before, she extended her arm until her wand was at arm's length from her.

Then she relaxed her hand, and her wand clattered to the ground.

"I want to talk to your master," she said in a deceptively steady voice.

"It's not likely you'll be doing any talking at all, after tonight," said a cold voice from behind her.

Then, from her left, came a different voice.

"Stupefy!"

"_Ron—you spoiled _everything!_" Hermione screamed up the stairs, tears leaking out of her eyes._

_Ron and Harry rushed up the stairs and out of sight. Hermione watched them go and then sat on the steps, wiping at her tears. Her feet ached from dancing in her heels, and she removed them one at a time, still crying pathetically._

"_Granger."_

_She looked up and saw the face she least wanted to see—no, the second least. Ron was the person she least wanted to see at the moment._

"_What do you want, Malfoy?" she sniffed, trying to regain her composure._

"_What happened to you? Got dumped by Krum? Or was it Potty and the Weasel?" Malfoy taunted._

"_Go away," Hermione snarled, getting to her feet._

"_What, no witty remarks today? No verbal sparring?"_

"_If you hadn't noticed, I'm not really in the mood for that right now." At least her tears had dried._

_Hermione started walking up the stairs, but his hand caught hers, and she turned around to glare at him. Their faces were about level, but Malfoy was standing a step below her._

_He smirked. "Aw, Mudblood's been dumped."_

"_Don't call me that," said Hermione through gritted teeth._

"_Don't call you what, Granger? Mudblood?"_

_He looked at her innocently, and she couldn't take it anymore. She grabbed onto him, shoved him up against the side wall and started pounding his chest and shoulders._

"_Ow—ow! What the—bloody hell—are you doing?" Malfoy shouted._

_She kept pounding away at him until he restrained her hands. She was out of breath, and he was panting lightly too. She tried to free her hands, but his grip felt like a vice on each arm._

"_Let go of me!"_

"_Where'd all that strength go? You practically threw me up against a wall right there," said Malfoy, twisting his head around slightly. "Now my neck hurts."_

"_Good," said Hermione, seething._

"_You dirty little Mudblood, I'm going to make you pay."_

"_Oh yeah? How?"_

_His lips crashed down on hers, and she gasped at the sudden contact, trying to back away. Then his arms wrapped around her, and he spun them around, trapping her against the wall. The swift motion made Hermione dizzy, and she kicked out, trying to keep her balance. He supported her weight, lips never leaving hers._

_She shoved at his chest, but he caught her arms again and pinned them to her sides as he trapped her back into his embrace. She tried to kick him, but realized too late that while she was trying not to fall, he had stepped between her legs. Feeling more desperate now, she wriggled her right arm out from its position and jabbed him in the ribs._

_His lips finally left hers as he grunted in pain, but before she could take more than a few much-needed gasps of air, his mouth had covered hers again, and this time he'd caught her with her mouth open. His tongue slipped into her mouth, and she tried to back up, hitting her head against the wall._

_Everything blurred, and she found herself responding, pressing her tongue against his, and finding the taste and feel of his tongue intoxicating. His arms slowly loosened around her, and his hands began to wander up and down her sides. She fisted both of her hands in his hair and held on tight._

No… no, no, no. What are you doing?_ a voice said in her head._

What, a girl can't relax every once in a while? I'm just going to relax and enjoy myself_, Hermione thought back._

No! Enjoy myself? This is Draco Malfoy! His father is a Death Eater!

Oh, bugger off,_ she shot back at her conscience._

_In the meantime, Malfoy had swept her up into his arms, still kissing her feverishly. When Hermione realized that her feet had left the ground—and she didn't realize it until they had already reached the top of the stairs—she pulled her lips away from his._

"_Where—where are we going?" she asked worriedly._

"_Does it matter?" Malfoy replied, his eyes filled with lust._

_Hermione realized belatedly that her shoes were still on the steps and was about to ask Malfoy to put her down so she could get them when he touched his lips to hers again. She promptly forgot what it was that she wanted, too caught up in the maelstrom of new sensations coursing through her._

_Then she was sitting on the edge of a desk, her legs spread apart, her dress hitched up around her waist. He was standing between her legs, still not letting up on her mouth, but she couldn't get tired of that taste—she just wanted more of these feelings, more of his touch, more of him._

_His hands caressed her breasts through the fabric of her dress, making her moan gently. He kissed his way down her neck to her collarbone, and she whimpered. When his hands reached around her to start lifting her dress off, she gasped and caught them._

"_No, please don't," she whispered._

_He didn't seem put off in the least, his teeth nipping at her neck as he dragged his mouth back up toward hers. One of his hands slid up and stopped at the base of her neck, gripping the back of her neck firmly so she couldn't move her head away from his—not that she wanted to._

_Then something poked her in that area, and she gasped, her attention drawn to his other hand. He had pushed her panties to the side, and now he was stroking up and down her folds. His lips had moved on to her earlobe, and she gasped as his finger touched a spot that seemed more sensitive than the rest of her._

"_Oh, Merlin—do that again," she moaned._

"_What, this?" he murmured, lightly grazing the spot again._

"_Ohhh yes."_

_He rubbed across that spot a few times, and she couldn't hold back her moans. Then he pressed a finger up inside her, and she moaned in pleasure—she had never felt anything so intense, yet for some reason she felt that there could be so much more. She bucked her hips against him instinctively and felt the pleasure surge._

_She looked at his face and noticed that there was a small smile playing around his lips._

"_Malfoy, do something," she said, thinking that there had to be contribution from his side for that wonderfully delicious feeling to come back—he'd stopped touching that sensitive spot, and she was aching for him to touch it again._

"_Granger, what do you want me to do? I don't know what to do now," he said, feigning ignorance._

"_You bastard—"_

"_I wouldn't be insulting me if I were you."_

_His long finger thrust a bit farther inside her, and she cried out in pleasure, but still that aching need was there._

"_Malfoy…" she hissed._

"_Yes?" That damned finger wriggled a tiny bit, making her spasm against him._

"_Malfoy, please."_

_She felt as if she was so close to something, but to what she had no idea._

_He whispered in her ear, "I want to hear you beg, Granger. Beg me to fuck you."_

_Hermione bit her lip—hadn't she already said please?_

"_Please, Malfoy," she breathed, and his finger moved just a bit again. "Please, stop torturing me."_

"_That's not what I wanted to hear."_

_Then the finger was gone, and Hermione's breaths quickened. She tightened her arms around his neck so he couldn't back away and heard the words come out of her mouth in a breathy whisper._

"_Malfoy, fuck me."_

_He smirked. "There you go."_

_Suddenly he was pushing away from her and walking across the room toward the door. Hermione was shocked for a moment, and then she ran past him, blocking the door. He cocked his head to the side, amused._

"_What the hell, Malfoy?" she demanded. She was still aching for release, and her legs trembled a little. She was acutely aware of the wetness between her legs._

"_I said I'd make you pay, and now you're paying," said Malfoy simply. "Get out of my way."_

_Hermione glared at him. "You—you—you conniving, slimy git!"_

_He took another step in her direction, and she jumped on him, making him stagger backwards. Allowing her desperate need to dictate her actions, she latched onto his mouth and kissed him furiously, arms wrapped around his neck and legs twisted around his waist. She felt something hard pressing against her lower region and suddenly felt a little shy._

_When she backed off his mouth to kiss his chin and jaw, he groaned._

"_God, Granger. What are you doing to me?" His voice was raspy and low._

_She realized that she couldn't find words to explain her actions, so she just kept kissing him. He dumped her on a desk, pushed her down so that they were horizontal, and pulled her panties off. She gasped and his mouth covered hers again. Her hands moved of their own accord to remove his belt, and she couldn't believe what she was doing._

_Going for it with Draco Malfoy, of all people? She had no idea what had gotten into her, but she didn't care anymore. She'd had enough of being treated as a last resort by Ron, and Malfoy… he made her feel desired, and Merlin help her, she wanted him too._

_She kept fumbling with the buckle, and his kiss became more urgent. He pushed her hands out of the way and unbuckled the belt himself. Her free hands ran up his body, tugging his shirt off. She stopped kissing him to look at his perfect, smooth skin and the muscles that rippled beneath it. She couldn't stop herself from touching him._

_Then she felt something nudging her nether lips, and she gasped—he'd gotten his pants and boxers off._

_Her eyes darted up to his face, and she found his eyes fixed hungrily on hers. What was he waiting for? She lifted her head and tugged his lower lip between her teeth. A feral growl escaped him, and he entered her in one swift stroke. Her cry of pain was muffled by his mouth, but his lower body remained perfectly still._

_The pain quickly subsided, and she felt extremely…full. Complete. He was still looking at her eyes, as if waiting for permission. She nodded her head, and then he was moving._

_In, out. In, out. In, out._

_Hermione was gasping and moaning. She gripped his shoulders and begged for him to move faster, and he complied, going farther in with each stroke. He must not have entered her fully the first time. She started thrusting her hips up to meet his and was almost embarrassed by the loud sounds coming out of her throat._

_Then she was soaring, sparks flying before her eyes. She clung to his shoulders tightly, afraid that she'd fall if she let go. He thrust in her a few more times before coming inside her, and then he collapsed over her. She stroked his broad shoulders gently, and his breathing slowly evened out._

_It was then that her brain decided to function again._

_She'd just had sex. She'd just had sex with _Draco Malfoy.

_Suddenly she was terrified. She started to push at Malfoy's chest, but he just crushed her with his weight and kissed her lips._

"_Relax, Granger," he mumbled between kisses._

_She shoved at him again, panting._

"_Get—get off me."_

_Malfoy grinned wickedly. "That's not what you said earlier, Granger."_

_Hermione's face blanched as she remembered how she'd asked him to fuck her. He took advantage of the distraction and kissed her a few more times. She stopped fighting. Another few kisses wouldn't make what she did any worse, at this point._

_Finally, he slid out of her and backed away. "Wow. I didn't even get to see you naked," he said._

_Hermione sat up on the desk and smoothed out her dress. He was putting his clothes back on. She stood up. "Where…" she began to ask, but it was too embarrassing. She looked around for her panties._

"_Looking for these?" said Malfoy, picking her underwear up off the floor._

"_Give them back."_

"_No. You're mine now, and I'm going to keep this as a souvenir."_

"_Yours? Who said I was yours?"_

"_I did," said Malfoy, grinning. "You're mine, Granger."_

"_Yeah, right."_

_Her hair was disheveled, probably all over the place, and she couldn't think straight. She took a few steps toward him and found that it hurt a little to walk. Then Malfoy smiled at her, and she realized that it was sincere, not like his usual taunting smirks. She couldn't take her eyes off his face._

"_Well, if you insist that you're not mine right now, I'll just have to make you mine," he said. "And I'll start by taking this with me." He held up her underwear._

"_Give it back."_

"_No. If you don't let me touch you again, I want something to prove to myself this wasn't just a dream."_

_Hermione frowned. "You have dreams like this?"_

_Malfoy hesitated. "No, of course not."_

"_Have you fantasized about me?"_

"_No," said Malfoy. "Why would I fantasize about you? You're a Mudblood."_

"_Yeah, a Mudblood that you just had sex with and whose panties you aren't giving back."_

_She reached for them, but he held them out of reach._

"_All right then, yes. I have fantasized about this. Now what?"_

_Hermione didn't know what to say._

"_That's what I thought," said Malfoy, grinning. He kissed her lips again. "You'll see that you're mine eventually, Hermione. You'll see."_

_She shuddered when he said her first name, and suddenly she wanted to hear it come out of those velvety lips again. He started for the door, but her words made him pause._

"_Say my name again."_

_Malfoy smirked. "Bye, Hermione." Without looking back at her, he left the room._

"_Bye… Draco."_

Hermione faintly heard a voice somewhere far, far away.

"Rennervate."


	4. III Pledge of Allegiance

**Author's Note:** Finals week is coming up very soon for me, so I'm working slower (study, study, study, study, study…), but since I've already put together quite a bit of material to work with, I think I'll still be able to update regularly. Yay!

By the way, I know that this chapter may not be entirely convincing to some of you out there, but if you don't like it, you don't have to read it. Let me know what you think, though, like it or not. I'm only writing this for fun, so I won't be upset, I promise! Read and review :)

**Disclaimer: **Unfortunately, it is my duty to inform you that neither the characters nor the world in which they live is mine.

**III. Pledge of Allegiance**

She stood in the center of a dimly lit room. Hooded figures lined the walls. She should have been shaking in fear, but she was perfectly still. Somewhere deep inside her, she was screaming, telling herself that she should leave before it was too late, while she still had a chance to survive.

He would have wanted her to live.

But no, it was already too late. The masked, hooded figures were restless, and she knew that their leader had arrived. The door behind her swung open with a small creak, and she heard his quiet footsteps on the marble floor.

"Granger, what a _pleasant _surprise."

His voice was barely louder than a whisper, but it resounded around the whole room. His black robes swished behind him as he glided past her and turned, red eyes narrowed to slits. He sat in his chair and scrutinized her.

Hermione gritted her teeth, unwilling to show that she was intimidated by him, and dropped her eyes back to the floor. Then an invisible force, most likely the result of a non-verbal spell, shoved the backs of her legs, and she fell painfully to her knees. She did not utter a sound.

"You will _kneel_ before the Dark Lord!" a voice hissed from behind her.

One of the Death Eaters closer to Voldemort stepped forward and handed him a wand—_her_ wand. She trembled slightly, wishing that the wand was in her hand at the moment. But it wouldn't have helped her so much, seeing as she was far outnumbered.

He twirled the 10¾", vine and dragon heartstring wand between his fingertips. "So…"

There was a long pause, and it seemed as though nothing in the room moved or breathed anymore. If Hermione hadn't known any better, she would have thought the Death Eaters were statues. She looked up to see that his eyes were still fixed upon her, calculating.

"…why have you… _graced_ us, with your visit?"

The Death Eaters laughed briefly but were silenced by Voldemort's disapproving expression.

"When I speak, you will answer me."

Hermione steeled herself and spoke. "I want to become a Death Eater."

Suddenly the room was filled with derisive laughter. Voldemort himself even looked amused.

"_You?_ A Mudblood? Do you _honestly_ think that the Dark Lord would even _consider_ honoring you with the Mark?" a loud female voice sounded out.

Hermione located with her eyes the Death Eater who had spoken and knew that it was Bellatrix Lestrange—she recognized that voice and couldn't help but feel a stab of fury that she hadn't been killed in the battle at Hogwarts. Pure loathing filled every ounce of Hermione's being. That monster had performed the Cruciatus Curse on her in this manor, not so long ago.

When the Death Eaters quieted down again, Voldemort spoke. "What have you to offer me?"

The Death Eaters all seemed to hold their breath, stunned that their master was even considering admitting this Mudblood into their ranks. Hermione noticed that Bellatrix had even opened her mouth to speak, but one look from her Lord silenced her.

Hermione's throat and mouth suddenly felt very dry. "The—the members of the Order don't know that I'm here. I can—I can provide you with information, regarding—"

"Now, now, we wouldn't want another vulnerability, like Snape, would we?" said Voldemort, still in that very quiet voice. "Why would _you_, best friend of _that_ boy, the _Potter_ boy, wish to serve your greatest enemy?"

Hermione felt a probing force enter her mind, and she clenched her jaw. The Death Eaters probably knew what was happening; none spoke as Voldemort flipped through her thoughts—a birthday party, a tense struggle against the Devil's Snare, the letter from Hogwarts, her completely failed attempt to fly a broom.

She started to feel a little dizzy. The barriers had to hold. They _had_ to hold. She focused with all her might on the marble floor in front of her, but it wouldn't stick. She confronted Harry about his lack of progress on the second task. Then she was soaring through the air on Buckbeak's back.

No, Hermione. Focus. The marble floor reappeared but soon disappeared again. She was racing through the Department of Mysteries and raising her wand to Stun a Death Eater—now she was pushing Ron away and warning him not to touch her.

Clearly, the floor wasn't working. She tried to clear her thoughts. The inside of Grimmauld Place flashed inside her mind, and she knew she had to stop him. She resorted to the one image that she knew was burned into her mind and heart for all eternity.

Those silver eyes materialized before her, followed by his beautiful face, framed by tousled, silver-blond hair. She forced herself to recount every detail of that face—defined eyebrows, smooth cheeks, pointed chin, prominent nose, and those soft, soft lips…

And then she was released.

Returning to reality, she felt the cool marble floor against her cheek and realized that she must have fallen. She pushed herself back up to her knees and steadily met Voldemort's unreadable eyes. Why had he decided to let her go?

"Malfoy," he hissed.

The Death Eaters around the room were murmuring now, and Voldemort did nothing to quiet them down.

Bellatrix spoke. "Lucius and Draco were both—"

"Silence!" said Voldemort, raising his voice for the first time since he had entered the room. Everyone was immediately quiet again. He addressed Hermione, "I know why you have come to me. But I will not believe you, not unless you allow me to look inside your mind without hindrance."

Hermione raised her chin defiantly. She had to put on a show if she was to be believed.

"No."

"How _dare_ you—" began one of the Death Eaters, stepping forward, but Voldemort lifted his hand once, and the man stepped back into place.

"How do you expect me to trust you if you will not open your mind to me?"

Voldemort stood up and started walking slowly to the right. Hermione kept her eyes on his now vacant chair and kept her mouth shut. He didn't speak again until he'd walked about halfway around the room.

"Do you expect me to believe that _love_ is the reason why you wish to join me?"

The Death Eaters seemed to shift uncomfortably at the mention of the word.

"Although it would be much more… _convenient_ to dig directly into your brain, I think we would all receive greater _pleasure_ and have a great deal more fun retrieving the answers in a different way."

"What way?" Hermione said through gritted teeth.

"Oh, I think you know. After all, you are, as they say, the _brightest witch of your age_." He spat the last few words out with contempt as he completed his first lap around the room and continued walking. Now he addressed the Death Eaters, "Draco Malfoy was killed at Hogwarts. Where is his body?"

"Still at Hogwarts, I think," one of the Death Eaters reported.

There was an ache in Hermione's chest. Had he just been left there to rot when the Death Eaters returned? Unbidden tears accumulated in her eyes, and she forced herself to blink them away.

"Retrieve it."

Two Death Eaters immediately stalked out of the room. Voldemort slowly returned to his seat and fixed his eyes on Hermione. She felt extremely uncomfortable under his penetrating gaze but refused to turn away. She wouldn't back down.

A few minutes later, they were still at a standstill, and to escape the reality of her situation, Hermione thought back to the last time she'd been in the Malfoy Manor.

_Bellatrix's eyes fell on Gryffindor's sword, and she stopped Lucius from summoning Voldemort. Hermione couldn't keep her eyes off Draco as Bellatrix gave orders for Harry and Ron to be taken down into the dungeon below. Draco was pointedly looking at anything in the room except Hermione, and she finally tore her eyes away—it would do no good for them to be caught just because she wanted to look at his face._

_Then the Snatchers collapsed to the ground, Stunned by Bellatrix, and Draco was ordered to take them outside and leave them to be dealt with later._

"_Where did you get this sword, Mudblood?" Bellatrix demanded._

_Hermione stayed silent._

"_Crucio!" cried Bellatrix._

_Hermione's knees buckled, and she writhed on the floor in agony. Before she knew it, she was screaming at the top of her lungs, the pain unbearable. Then, it was over, and she curled up into fetal position._

"_Tell me now. Where did you get this sword?"_

_Still Hermione didn't say a word, and she was rewarded with new waves of pain. She twisted around, clawing blindly at the ground, wishing for a way to escape this pain._

_Bellatrix's high-pitched laughter filled her ears, and then the curse was lifted._

"_Draco, dear boy, why don't you have a go?"_

_Hermione managed to look up. Draco was standing in the doorway. His eyes passed over her briefly, and then he walked to his aunt's side. Hermione saw Bellatrix beaming in approval as Draco pointed his wand at her. She looked into his eyes and knew, even though those eyes were stone-cold and devoid of emotion, that he didn't want to do this._

"_Crucio," he said in a low voice._

_Pain enveloped her again, but this wasn't nearly as bad as Bellatrix's curse had been. She was still able to think coherently about things other than the pain. She thrashed about on the ground, wondering how they would ever escape. Would they escape?_

_Then the spell was lifted. Hermione lay on the ground, limp, too weak even to curl up._

"_Draco boy, you don't seem to have the heart for this," said Bellatrix. "Watch me."_

"_No!" Hermione cried out. "No, no, no, please! Please, don't."_

_Bellatrix looked elated. "Tell me now!" she crowed. "It will get much worse for you if you don't."_

"_The sword—it's a fake. We found it," said Hermione._

"_A fake?"_

_Hermione nodded fervently. Bellatrix turned away and called for Griphook to be brought upstairs. Hermione was shocked—they had captured a goblin? Then she caught Draco's eyes watching her, and she met his gaze. Suddenly she felt warmer, and a soothing feeling washed over her. He must have used a nonverbal spell. She thanked him with her eyes, and he looked away, focusing on the ground instead._

The room was still silent.

Voldemort's eyes were closed now, and she wondered what he could be thinking about. The Death Eaters shifted uncomfortably, and she wondered how long it had been. Could it really take this long to get to Hogwarts? They could Apparate, after all…

_Hermione lay in one of two beds in her shared room with Luna, who had also been held captive by the Death Eaters at the Malfoy Manor._

_They had reached Shell Cottage, Bill and Fleur's home, with plenty of help from Dobby the house elf. Unfortunately, as they were leaving, Dobby was struck in the chest by Bellatrix's knife, and by the time they reached safety, it was already too late for him. Harry was devastated and insisted on digging Dobby's grave on his own, without magic. Hermione and the others could only watch as he dug a small hole in the ground for the small creature that had just saved their lives._

_But even as Hermione stood watching Dobby being laid to rest, her mind was filled only with thoughts of Draco. Even now, her thoughts continued to revolve around him. Voldemort had to have arrived soon after their narrow escape, and when he found out that they had gotten away, how would he punish Draco and his family? She shuddered at the thought of him being tortured by the Cruciatus Curse._

_She got out of bed and left the cottage, quickly passing the boundary that had been drawn around it to keep the residents safe from intruders._

_Then she Apparated to a small flat in Muggle London. This was the place where she and Draco waited in lonely hours, hoping that the other would be able to come. This was the only place in the vast, vast world that was theirs and theirs alone._

_Hermione pulled out a small jade pendant. Her mother had given it to her long ago, after a vacation in China. The pendant was part of a pair of matching ornaments, and in fifth year, after casting the Protean Charm on them, Hermione had given one of them to Draco—she'd gotten the idea from the galleons she'd charmed for Dumbledore's Army._

_She tapped it with her wand again; she'd done so earlier in the day, but there had been no flash in response. She prayed that everything was all right and began to pace back and forth nervously in the small living room. Then she stopped. She had to calm down, had to sort through her thoughts. The war was only just beginning—they were still searching for Horcruxes, and they wouldn't be on even footing with Voldemort until they removed every object that preserved his immortality._

_She stood facing the window, looking blankly into the dark. Rain splattered the window._

_A pop alerted Hermione to his arrival, and she smiled._

"_Don't you think you should be a little more careful about showing your face?" she heard him say from behind her. His hands rested on her waist as she pulled the curtains shut. She felt his breath on her neck. "Hermione, I'm so sorry."_

_Hermione turned around in his arms. "You didn't have a choice."_

_Draco looked impulsive. "I could've just killed my aunt."_

_Hermione smiled. "I'm sure your parents wouldn't have appreciated that so much."_

"_Yeah well, I haven't cared much for what they thought ever since you woke me up."_

_Hermione kissed him lightly. "Did Voldemort punish you for letting us get away?"_

"_It was just the Cruciatus Curse for me. He was more furious at my dad, and my aunt. They're to be confined to the Manor for some time, taking orders from Fenrir."_

_Hermione flinched at the mention of that debauched, wicked werewolf, but she didn't comment on it. "Then… what of you?" she asked._

"_I'm supposed to be looking for you," said Draco with a small smile. "And Potter and Weasley, of course," he added as an afterthought._

_She smiled. "Well, you found me. What're you going to do now?"_

"_I'm going to hold you like this until I absolutely can't stay any longer. I'm going to kiss you—" he paused to press his lips gently to hers before continuing "—and tell you that I can't live without you, and that I'm never going to leave your side."_

"_Promise me," whispered Hermione._

"_Promise you what?"_

"_Promise me that you'll never leave me."_

_Draco smiled. "I promise, I will never, ever leave you."_

Hermione was jerked back to reality by a cold voice.

"While we're waiting, I thought you could explain to my followers _why_ you are here."

Hermione remained silent. Suddenly, Voldemort had disappeared from her line of sight, and she could feel his icy breath on the back of her ear. She shuddered despite her effort at remaining calm.

"Now, now, let's not make this unpleasant," he breathed.

Then he was across the room again, approaching his chair.

Hermione gritted her teeth, trying to make it apparent that she was angry, rather than frightened. "I am here because I love Draco Malfoy," she said bluntly.

Startled silence.

"He was murdered tonight, right in front of me, and I couldn't do anything to stop it." She struggled to keep her voice completely even. "The person who ended his life… was Harry Potter."

Still there was no detectable response from the Death Eaters. She wondered if they were repressing their reactions because that Voldemort hadn't given them any hints.

"I came here because I want revenge. And not just on Harry—I could have killed him right there in the Forbidden Forest, and no one would have had to know it was me. No, I want to destroy the members of the Order, just one or two at a time, and watch him go through the same hell that I'm going through."

She paused.

"Then, and _only_ then, I want him to die."

These last words she made sure were infused with hatred, hatred that she had started harboring toward Harry from the moment she'd heard him cast that Killing Curse. She borrowed some of the hatred she felt for Bellatrix to make her words sound even more venomous. She wanted each and every being in the room to _know_ that she meant what she said.

The room remained silent, and her eyes remained fixed on the floor.

Voldemort stood up. "Do you believe her?" he asked his following. Again, he began to circle the room. When there was no response, he said, "I would have thought you would be much more insightful. What are your thoughts?"

"I say we torture the girl, and then kill her," said Bellatrix, sounding bloodthirsty.

"Then you do not believe her," said Voldemort.

"She's a filthy Mudblood. I say she _lies_."

Hermione felt Bellatrix's eyes on hers and remembered how Draco had warned her about his aunt being a talented Legilimens. She immediately repressed the thoughts and memories that she wanted hidden and then balled her fists, bracing herself.

Bellatrix moved through Hermione's childhood memories first, and Hermione winced—she didn't want that vile woman rooting through those precious memories. Then Bellatrix moved on to Hogwarts, flipping through all the fights that Hermione had had with Draco. She skipped forward several years, and then Hermione heard her own words reverberate in her head.

"_I love you, Draco Malfoy, with all my heart."_

Hermione felt Bellatrix's mind recede from hers and unclenched her fists. She'd remained kneeling upright this time around.

"Well?" Voldemort prompted one of his most loyal Death Eaters.

Bellatrix hesitated, then said, "She's… she's telling the truth.

The Death Eaters were hissing amongst themselves, all in disbelief.

"I saw them… together," said Bellatrix. She turned on Hermione. "How _dare_ you defile my nephew with your touch!"

Hermione glared steadily back at her. "I love him. More than _you_ do at least, I'm willing to bet."

"You insolent wretch!"

Bellatrix lifted her wand, but Voldemort held out a hand, stopping her.

"My Lord, please, let me punish her."

"No, not now," said Voldemort softly. "What did you see?" he asked Bellatrix.

Hermione realized that he had to be asking this for the benefit of all the Death Eaters in the room; he easily could have lifted the answer straight out of his loyal dog without either of them speaking a word.

"She said that she _loved_ him."

"Just that she loved him?"

"With all her heart," Bellatrix spat.

"Really?" said Voldemort. He turned. "Is it true?"

He seemed to be asking Hermione now, but before she could respond, he'd raised the wand in his hands, and she realized with a jolt that it was _her_ wand.

"Crucio!"

Hermione immediately fell to the ground, writhing in pain but holding back her screams. She thrashed around, trying to escape the pain that surrounded her, and death began to seem blissful to her. At least she'd be able to join Draco. The pain surged more intense than before, and she finally screamed, unable to bear it.

She saw his face in her mind, and he was reassuring her with unspoken words.

_You can do it. I love you, Hermione. I'll protect you_.

The searing pain brought her back to reality, but she didn't feel it as acutely before. Though she continued to writhe uncontrollably, she felt as though a thick blanket had covered her all over, inside and out, and she was somehow less susceptible to the pain.

And then it was over.

"Yes," she gasped. "Yes, it's true."

"Please understand, I have to make absolutely certain."

She felt the sting of the Cruciatus Curse from all sides yet again. She cried out and heard herself begging almost unintelligibly for the pain to end. She was floating on the edge of oblivion, and it felt as though someone else was screaming in pain, someone else was rolling around on the ground, twisting and trying to claw their way to freedom.

Then, as the sharp pain faded away to dull throbbing, she wondered why the pain always felt as strong as the first time. Surely one could develop a tolerance?

"I love him," she whispered, a tear rolling from her eye.

She could feel shocked eyes on her, but she didn't move—she felt like she _couldn't_ move, even if she had wanted to.

At long last, the doors banged open.

"What took so long?" Voldemort hissed.

"He was in the woods. The Forbidden Forest—" began one of the Death Eaters, but he stopped after Voldemort shot a glare at him.

Hermione managed to lift her torso off the floor, twisting up into a sitting position.

Draco's body had been placed several feet from her. His robes were in disarray. His silver-blonde hair was smeared with mud, and some leaves were stuck in it. Those beautiful eyes were closed. She would never see them open again…

She reached out to touch his face, but when she was mere centimeters away, she was restricted by an unseen force. Someone was using nonverbal magic to keep her from touching him.

Without looking away from his face, she whispered, "Please."

Even she was surprised by the pain apparent in that whisper. Then the force lifted away from her, and her fingers brushed his cheek. His skin was stone cold. A hot tear slipped from her right eye and made it to the edge of her cheek before dropping to the marble floor.

Everything felt so real now. He was really never coming back.

She kept staring at him, as if expecting him to sit up and tell her that it was all a joke, that Potter had already killed Voldemort, that the Death Eaters were safely locked away in Azkaban, and that they could now be together forever.

"Take him away," Voldemort spoke in that same quiet voice.

Draco was levitated up off the ground and moved out of the room. Hermione felt like she had shattered inside, felt like she was a shell filled with bloody, broken shards of the person she used to be. She blinked once, and another tear escaped her eye. She reached up and wiped it away.

"Turn around and come here."

Hermione stood on shaky legs and turned around, surprised that she still had the strength to support herself. Voldemort was back in his seat. Hermione slowly approached him.

"Kneel."

The Death Eaters waited anxiously—was he really going to make her one of them?

Voldemort held her wand out to the side, and the nearest Death Eater, the one who had given him Hermione's wand at the beginning, retrieved it. Then Voldemort pulled out his own wand and extended his hand, palm up. His eyes had stayed trained on hers the whole time.

Hermione blinked. Then she dropped to her knees and placed her left wrist, forearm facing up, in his open hand. She dropped her gaze from his face to his wand. The tip moved to hover above her arm, and she clenched her jaw.

This was it.

The wand tip pressed into her flesh, and she felt as though her skin was on fire. She hissed in pain as she watched a black trail slowly wind up her arm. This was part of the snake—she could still perfectly picture the Dark Mark on Draco's forearm. Wherever the blackness traveled, her skin seared.

Finally, the snake and skull were complete, and Hermione felt as though she had lost a layer of skin. It still burned, but less severely than before.

"Welcome. You have pledged your allegiance to me. If ever you betray me, I will see to it that you and your family suffer terrible deaths. You may think that they're safer in Australia, without any recollection of having had a daughter, but you never know."

Hermione refused to show her surprise that he knew about her parents. She shifted backward slightly to give herself more room, and he released her arm. She bowed low, her forehead touching the floor.

"Yes, My Lord," she whispered.

"Stand."

Hermione got to her feet. The Death Eaters around the room looked uneasy, but none dared to object to what Voldemort had just done.

"Your first mission is to go back to the Order. Say that you have successfully infiltrated the Death Eaters' ranks, and use the Mark to prove it. To prove your allegiance to me, you are to kidnap any one of the students who escaped alive and bring him—or her—here. You have one week."

"But My Lord—how do you know the Mudblood won't betray us the same way Severus did?"

Bellatrix was the one who had finally plucked up the courage to voice the question that was circling in the mind of each of the Death Eaters.

"Severus… I must admit that I was not completely surprised by his betrayal," said Voldemort. When no one spoke, he elaborated, "I should not have trusted him as I did. He was emboldened to defy me because of _Lily Potter_. Love, that despicable emotion, seems to win over any sort of reason. Granger will not betray us, not if she wants the Order destroyed and Harry Potter painfully murdered. She is motivated by _love_ for Draco, just as Severus was motivated by love for that woman."

Nothing broke the silence that followed his speech. Finally, he gestured for the Death Eater to return Hermione's wand to her, and she gratefully accepted it.

"Thank you, My Lord," she said.

"Leave now. I expect you to return within one week."

Hermione bowed her head. "I'll be here."

About five minutes later, she arrived at Grimmauld Place. She went straight into the kitchen, just in case Mr. Weasley or Lupin had stayed there—she wanted a chance to talk to them alone about what had happened. But they weren't there, so she went upstairs to her room.

When she saw that Ginny had fallen asleep with the Body-Binding Curse on her, Hermione decided to convince her that it had all been a dream.

"Finite Incantatem," she whispered.

Ginny shifted a little, and then rolled over in her sleep.

After unpacking her backpack and changing into a nightgown, Hermione slid under the covers beside Luna and closed her eyes, hoping to get some rest.


	5. IV Meeting of the Survivors

**Author's Note: **In my opinion this is relatively dull chapter… so I'm sorry! Have to have some boring administrative stuff going on somewhere in this story. I'll post the next chapter up soon—I like it a lot better, so I hope you will too.

**Disclaimer:** I don't know why I put this at the top of every chapter. This shall be the last time! I do not own the characters or their world. I simply tweak their personalities to suit my purposes ;)

Read and review!

**IV. Meeting of the Survivors**

_She lay on the blanket-covered ground in only her bra and underwear. He planted kisses along her neck and down to the valley between her breasts, reaching behind her to unclasp her bra. She deftly unbuttoned his oxford shirt and shoved it over his shoulders. He shrugged it off the rest of the way and lowered his chest against hers, covered her mouth with his._

_Hermione arched her back, pressing up against him, wishing they could somehow meld into a single entity so that they would never have to be separated. She rolled them over, and he grunted as his back hit the ground._

_Hermione smiled against his lips. "You have to let me be on top sometimes."_

_He held his arms out to his sides with a smirk. "I'm all yours. Do your worst."_

_She nibbled on his chin and then dragged her mouth down his neck to his torso. She sucked and bit at his left nipple, and he groaned loudly. Draco started to wrap his arms around her, but she sat up and pushed his arms to either side._

_Hermione opened her mouth to tell him not to move, but the words died in her throat as her eyes zoned in on his left forearm._

_The Dark Mark._

_She couldn't breathe, she couldn't think, she couldn't even see anymore. She sat up and started backing up, scooting away from him, but he reacted too quickly. He sat upright, and his arms snaked around her tightly, anchoring her to him._

"_Let me go—let me go—LET ME GO!"_

_The arms wouldn't release her, and she cringed at the thought that that evil mark was pressed against her skin, was etched into the skin of someone she'd grown to care so much about._

_She heard Draco murmuring softly but couldn't make out the words; they were mumbled too quickly, jammed too closely together. He seemed to be trying to calm her down, but she continued to struggle against his arms._

"_Take your hands off of me!" she yelled loudly._

"_Shh, please Hermione, just—"_

"_Stop touching me with that Mark!" she screamed._

_His arms only tightened around her, and tears flowed freely from her eyes._

"_How could you?" she sobbed. "How could you do this to me? To yourself?"_

_She pounded his chest with her fists, but he did nothing to stop her, just kept his arms around her. Did he think he could just wait out the storm? Each time she brought a fist down on his body, she almost winced—she didn't want to cause him pain. She was pathetic—weak and pathetic, and he had made her that way. She cursed his name and pounded harder._

"_Hermione, please, please don't do this," he begged hoarsely._

_She was surprised to hear his throat catch, and looked up through watery eyes just in time to see a tear slip from the corner of one of his eyes. Even when twisted in anguish, his face still somehow managed to look beautiful, perfect._

_Her hand moved up to his face of its own accord and wiped away the lone tear that had escaped his eye._

_They stared at each other's eyes for the longest time. Hermione began to wish that she could stop time at that moment, so that they would never have to return to reality, so that they wouldn't have to fight on opposite sides in the impending war._

"_How could you?" she repeated in a whisper._

_He gathered her close to his chest, and this time she didn't resist._

"_I had to," he said quietly._

_His voice sounded hollow, and suddenly Hermione was afraid. She tilted her head back to look him in the eyes. He seemed to be struggling with the words._

"_That night in the Department of Mysteries, all of the Death Eaters, except my aunt, were captured."_

_Suddenly things started clicking into place in her head, and more tears fell from her eyes. How had she not realized this before? Of course there would have been consequences for the Death Eaters' failure to get the prophecy for Voldemort. She just hadn't anticipated that her Draco…_

"_My father… the Dark Lord blamed him for not getting the prophecy. He was going to kill me and my mother as punishment. My aunt asked him to give my family another chance…"_

_Hermione clung to Draco and sobbed into his shoulder, not caring that they were both half-naked, sitting on a blanket in the middle of a clearing, deep in the Forbidden Forest. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. She had known from the start that any sort of relationship with Draco was doomed, but seeing the Dark Mark on his arm had sealed the matter. It was impossible now._

"_I couldn't let my mum die," he said, his voice shaking._

_His body was trembling, and she was trembling with him. His arms were squeezed so tightly around her that she thought her ribs would break, yet she wished he would pull her even closer._

"_Draco," she whispered, and she felt him nod in response, "I…I don't care about what you are. I don't know how much…"_

_Her throat tightened, and she had to take a few deep breaths before starting over._

"_I don't know how much time we have left together, but I don't want to leave you, and I don't want you to leave me, not until it's absolutely impossible for us ever to see each other like this again."_

_Draco didn't respond._

"_Draco? Please don't say this is over," she begged in a whisper, hating herself for being so weak. "I want us to go right back to where we were before I found out you… before you became a Death Eater. We can keep doing the same thing, up until the very end. Please…please don't say it's over."_

"_It's not over," he muttered. "I'll stay with you until I can't."_

_Hermione took a shaky breath and patted his shoulder. He reluctantly loosened his arms so that she could back up and look at his face. She wondered when she had become so utterly dependent on him. Just seeing his face brought her solace._

"_Hermione…" said Draco, his eyes brimming with tears._

_She didn't speak, just waited. She sensed that what he needed more than anything was to be heard._

"_I'm… afraid. I'm afraid of failing. I don't think I can do it."_

_Hermione shoved her lips up against his, taking him by surprise. He started to push her away, but she fisted her hands in his hair, and when he tried to back up, he fell back onto the ground again. She straddled him and let her hands roam across his body, trying to ignite that spark inside him._

_Finally his lips started moving in response to hers, and she stuck her tongue into his mouth, seeking him out. His tongue mashed against hers, and desire boiled within them as they battled for dominance. She began grinding her hips against him and felt a bulge forming beneath her as he hardened._

_She couldn't do anything to help him, not when he was working for Voldemort. She couldn't jeopardize the Order by giving him any sort of help on whatever mission he'd been assigned._

_So she resorted giving him to the only thing she could—herself._

Hermione was shaken awake roughly. She rubbed her eyes and yawned, then looked up to see Ginny Weasley's face hovering near hers.

"What?" Hermione mumbled groggily.

"Explain yourself."

"Explain what?"

"Last night, you sneaked out! Tell me where you went."

Hermione sat up and noticed that Luna wasn't in bed anymore. "Where's Luna?"

"Dad called for us a few minutes ago to eat lunch, but I don't think you heard him. Luna went downstairs with the others already. Now tell me what happened last night."

"I didn't go anywhere, Ginny. I went downstairs and talked to Lupin and your dad like I said I would, and then I came back up here and went to sleep."

"No—I woke up and saw you packing up, but you wouldn't tell me where you were going, and then you put a Body-Bind Curse on me and left."

Hermione frowned. "I didn't do any of that. Are you sure you weren't dreaming?"

"Positive."

"Well, you're obviously not still bound. Did Luna release you?"

Now it was Ginny's turn to frown. "I don't… remember."

"Besides, my stuff isn't packed up."

"Oh…" Ginny looked around the room. "You're right. I'm sorry. I guess I'm just tired."

"It's fine—you should be tired."

"Well, get up and get dressed so we can eat lunch."

Hermione got off the bed and stretched. "You go ahead—tell them I'll be there in a few."

Ginny nodded and left the room.

After staring at the Dark Mark on her forearm for about two minutes, struck by horror at what she had done, she got dressed and headed downstairs.

"Where's Lupin?" she asked, looking at the people who were sitting at the table and finding him absent.

"He left last night, after you'd gone," said Mr. Weasley. "Said he had to visit Tonks' family."

Everyone in the room was eating quietly, thinking about what had happened last night and what was to come. Hermione sat down between Ginny and George, across from Harry and Ron. She caught Ron glaring at her every once in a while, but she pretended not to see.

After everyone had finished eating, Mr. Weasley cleared the table magically.

"When are we going to attack again?" asked Neville.

"Yeah, I want revenge," said Michael. "They killed Cho."

"Patience. This is going to take time. We need to regroup and recruit. I want revenge too, but we have to be smart about it," said Mr. Weasley.

"And we need a new spy," said Harry. "Without any inside information, it's going to be almost impossible to mount a successful attack against Voldemort."

Some of the students down the table flinched at the use of his name.

"I'll do it," said George.

"No," Mr. Weasley said immediately.

"Why not?"

"We need someone who's good at Occlumency," Harry explained. "Voldemort is a really powerful Legilimens. Snape was able to spy on him because he's a really powerful Occlumens."

The table was silent.

Then Terry said, "But… Occlumency isn't even taught at Hogwarts. Who here could possibly have that power?"

Ernie grimaced. "I don't even know what it is."

"Occlumency is a power that allows you to close your mind, so that other people can't get into your head," said Hermione.

"Snape gave me some private lessons in fifth year," said Harry. "I just… never really got the hang of it."

Mr. Weasley was looking at Hermione suspiciously, and she knew why. Last night, she'd told him that she and Harry both took lessons with Snape, but Harry didn't mention Hermione. She only shook her head at Mr. Weasley slightly, hoping he would just trust her on this.

"Do we have enough time to train someone right now?" asked Terry.

"Wouldn't we need a Legilimens to train them?" said Ginny.

Ron looked at her, surprised. "How do _you_ know anything about it?"

"Harry told me, of course. You're not his only friend."

Mr. Weasley's eyes flickered to Hermione but moved away again quickly. "I suppose we could do without it for now. We will find a way to plant someone in the Death Eaters' ranks, but until then, we need to gain followers."

"But the longer we wait, the stronger they get. And I don't think we can gain power as fast as they can, either," said George.

"Last time Hagrid contacted us, he said that the giants would probably enter the war on the Dark side," Harry reported. Hermione had known this already, as she'd been with Harry and Ron during that conversation.

Michael whistled. "Bad news all around, I guess."

Then Mr. Weasley said, "Lupin will be arriving in a few minutes with any Hogwarts professors who survived and are willing to fight, and we'll see if our prospects look any brighter then."

He sighed, and looking closely at him, Hermione thought he looked even more exhausted than he had the night before. She wondered if he'd gotten any sleep at all.

Again, everyone was silent, contemplating their options.

"Hermione, can I have a word with you?" Mr. Weasley asked.

Hermione nodded and got to her feet, starting toward the door.

"Wait—what can't you say in front of us?" Michael said.

"Yes, we're all in this together," Terry added.

Hermione lied. "It's got to do with what I'm going to do about my parents."

Harry and Ron glanced at her, eyebrows slightly raised in surprise. They knew that she had already taken care of her parents at the end of last summer by sending them away to Australia with their memories modified. However, they trusted Hermione enough to know that she was lying for a reason and didn't speak up.

Hermione and Mr. Weasley left the room and went to the upstairs drawing room in silence. When they were both inside, Hermione shut the door.

"Please explain why Harry doesn't seem to know that you also took lessons in Occlumency."

Hermione sighed. "I decided to take them in secret. I asked Snape to teach me so that I could be ready for something like this in the future. I didn't want Harry to know in case he started to feel pressure because I was doing well while he wasn't."

"You didn't have to lie to us last night."

"I didn't really _lie_, I just didn't mention that Harry didn't know about it. I'm sorry. I wanted to get the job done as fast as possible, before I lost my nerve. Skipping that explanation saved time," said Hermione. Her improvised explanation sounded infallible.

"Speaking of the job…"

Hermione pulled up her sleeve, and Mr. Weasley hissed.

"You—you—"

"I've already been given my first assignment."

"What is it?"

"I think it's better if… if you don't know," said Hermione quietly.

Mr. Weasley sighed heavily. "I don't like this at all."

"Neither do I. Believe me."

Then there was a knock at the door, and Hermione pulled it open to see Lupin just outside, looking haggard and desperately in need of a good night's sleep.

"Come. We're convening in the kitchen."

His eyes lingered on Hermione, and she realized that he wanted to know how it went.

"He believed me," she said.

"I think it'll be better if you tell everyone at once," said Lupin.

"But why?"

"If we want to stay unified, we don't need to keep secrets from each other. It paves the way for future misunderstandings."

Hermione sighed. "I suppose you're right."

"I'm relieved to see that you're alive."

She nodded.

"Let's not keep everyone waiting."

The three of them walked down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Hermione saw only that only four professors were present—Filius Flitwick, Pomona Sprout, Aurora Sinistra, and Septima Vector. Madam Pomfrey was also there. But did that mean no other professors from Hogwarts had survived? Or had some of them refused to come? Hermione couldn't imagine a single Hogwarts professor who would refuse to join the fight against Voldemort, so she was left with the unhappy conclusion that these four professors and the school nurse may have been the only surviving members of the Hogwarts faculty.

Everyone was squeezed onto the two long benches on either side of the table. Professor Flitwick lengthened the table with a flick of his wand so that there was enough room.

Hermione took her original seat between Ginny and George, and Mr. Weasley sat beside Ron.

Lupin stood at the head of the table with his back to the fireplace. "Filius, would you—"

Professor Flitwick shook his head. "We followed you here, Remus. You and Harry have our loyalty—and I speak for all of us."

Lupin looked at Harry, and the two of them nodded.

Lupin sat down and said, "Our situation is grave. We lost many members of the Order last night, and they deserve to be mentioned and remembered by us." He looked down at the table as he began to list names, "Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Nymphadora Tonks, and the Weasleys—Molly, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Percy, and Fred. Many others died—we can't know how many students were killed and how many were rounded up by the Death Eaters."

He stopped talking, and everyone sat in silence. It was understood that this moment was to recognize the people who had given their lives so that everyone here could be alive.

Finally, Lupin spoke up again. "We are going to fight this war to the very end. We may have a long road ahead, but we owe it to all of those who sacrificed themselves. With the last Horcrux destroyed, Voldemort is finally mortal again. So—"

Ernie's voice came from the other end of the table, "Sorry, Professor Lupin, but what's a Horcrux?"

"Please, don't call me professor. Just Remus, or Lupin. That goes for everyone here. There are no titles left, just people. And as for Horcruxes, if you don't know what they are, don't worry about it. Creation of a Horcrux is possibly the worst act a Dark wizard can perform."

There was a pause as Lupin tried to remember what he'd been talking about.

"Voldemort is mortal again," Hermione prompted.

"Ah, yes. Now that we're finally on even footing, we have even more reason to keep up the fight. That's all I've got for a pep talk." He looked over at Hermione and nodded.

She took a deep breath.

"Snape was among the people who were killed last night, so we need to replace him," she said.

"Yes, we were going over this earlier," Ron snapped.

"She wasn't finished, if you hadn't noticed," said Ginny.

Ron opened his mouth to retort, but Mr. Weasley stopped him.

"Ron, don't be so irritable."

Hermione sighed. "As I was saying, we need a replacement for Snape, someone who's powerful in Occlumency so that Voldemort won't be able to see through their act. Last night, I talked to Lupin and Mr. Weasley, and we decided that I could do it."

Everyone looked at her in surprise.

"Well, why didn't you say so before?" George asked.

"Wait—how did you—since when were you an Occlumens?" Harry blurted out, flabbergasted.

"I took lessons with Snape, just like you did."

"Without telling us?" said Ron. His eyes were accusing.

"I don't have to tell you everything that I do. And besides, Harry was having so much trouble with it. I didn't want to put pressure on him."

"Thanks a lot, Hermione," said Harry.

"I'm sorry, Harry, but that's the truth, isn't it?"

"Hermione, are you sure that it's safe for you? You're a brilliant witch, but you're still so young," said Professor Vector; she taught Arithmancy.

"Yes, I agree," said Professor Flitwick. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has very powerful skills in Legilimency. Even Severus must have struggled to hide information from him."

"Let Hermione explain," said Lupin.

Hermione took another deep breath. She was anxious about how the others would react; this was why she hadn't wanted to tell them. She didn't even know where to start. Eventually, she chose to start with her plan.

"Last night, Draco Malfoy was killed by one of us," she said.

"Good riddance," Ron murmured.

Hermione barely stopped herself from shooting a glare at him.

"How do you know?" Terry asked. "Weren't all the Death Eaters wearing masks?"

"I recognized his eyes," said Hermione. She elaborated, "Those were the eyes that he used when he glared at me every time he picked on me in almost seven years. You would recognize them too, if you were me."

"Oh," said Terry softly.

"The point is, I had a plan that I discussed with Lupin and Mr. Weasley after the battle. I would tell the Death Eaters that I wanted to join them because one of the people in the Order killed Malfoy."

"Bloody hell. Who would believe that?" said George from her right.

Hermione realized that she'd left out a detail. "Oh, right. I told them that I was in love with him."

"WHAT?" several voices cried out at once.

She'd been afraid of this. Ginny was clutching at her left arm, speaking so fast that she was practically unintelligible, and most the other students were either frozen in shock or shouting. Harry was staring at her as if she had a third eye, while Ron was shouting something at her. Luna was the only one in the room who seemed somehow unaffected.

"Shut up!" Lupin roared.

When that had no effect, Professor Flitwick raised his wand and cried out, "Silencio!"

The room was suddenly silent, but some were still mouthing soundlessly. When they realized that their voices were gone, they stopped.

"Thank you, Filius," said Lupin.

Professor Flitwick flicked his wrist, and the charm was lifted.

"Allow me to explain," said Hermione tiredly.

"Just one moment," said Professor Sinistra, who taught Astronomy. Always attentive to details, she pointed out, "You said that you _told_ them you loved Draco Malfoy—in past tense."

Ron was shaking his head, eyes wide in disbelief. "No—you did _not_ go already."

"Last night, right after we ended our discussion, I Apparated to the Malfoy Manor."

Gasps all around the table.

Hermione continued as if she hadn't heard them, "It took a little while to convince them, but they believed me and sent me back here. If my being alive isn't proof enough that I can do the job, then I don't know what you want."

"I don't believe you," said Michael. "Who's to say you're not lying?"

"Yeah, the Death Eaters would have killed you the second you got there. How did you even have time to talk?" Neville added.

"Everyone wants proof, is that it?"

Several heads nodded. Hermione leaned forward and held her left arm out over the table, forearm facing up. With a sigh, she pulled her sleeve back to the elbow, exposing the red mark etched into her skin.

The whole group, save Mr. Weasley, who'd already seen the Mark, drew a collective hiss. The professors, who were farther down the table, stood and moved around behind the others so that they could see the Dark Mark.

"Bloody hell, Hermione…" said Harry quietly. Ron was just gaping at her.

Hermione quickly withdrew her arm, covering up the blemish.

"What if she's under the Imperius Curse?" Terry suddenly asked. "What if the Death Eaters are already on their way over?"

"Now Terry, if she really went to see He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named last night and was going to bring him here, I doubt any of you would have lived to see the morning," said Professor Flitwick.

"Blimey, what was it like, talking to You-Know-Who?" Neville asked.

"I wouldn't imagine it being that different from talking to anybody," Luna said.

"Was it scary?" asked Ernie.

"Save your questions for later," said Lupin, saving Hermione from having to reply. She nodded at him gratefully, and he continued, "Now that we have our difficulty solved as far as finding out the next steps of the Death Eaters, we have to focus on recruitments. Professors, I'm sure you each have people you can contact, and maybe ask for help?"

Professor Flitwick nodded. "I have some goblin friends who would be more than willing to fight against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. They do not like working alongside wizards, but I will try my best."

The other professors nodded their agreement.

"What about us, Lupin?" asked Neville. "Can we do anything to recruit?"

Lupin hesitated, then said, "I'd prefer it if you students stayed here for the time being. I know that it won't be very interesting, but it'll be safe. I don't want any of you falling into his hands."

Hermione almost grimaced, recalling her mission. She would have to take one of them. Her eyes floated from face to face, wondering whom she should take. Ernie, perhaps. He wasn't a fierce fighter, or a particularly smart person. He had spirit, but it wouldn't be as helpful as Michael and Terry's Ravenclaw brains, or Neville's bravery and determination. She couldn't bear to take away a Weasley, as so many had already been lost, and Harry was out of the question. Luna? Even though she'd thought Luna was strange, she'd grown to like her and her quirky character. It would have to be Ernie, then...

She realized that she'd stopped listening and turned her attention back to the discussion.

"Well, we've made Polyjuice Potion before," said Ron. "We can do it again."

"_Hermione_ made it, you mean," said Harry.

Why did they need Polyjuice Potion? She mentally cursed herself for letting her mind wander.

"That could work," said Lupin. "It's hazardous, though. If you run out—"

"We'll make loads of it, so that there will be enough," said Harry.

Madam Pomfrey spoke up. "I have suppliers who can get us the ingredients within a day, and you can all get to work. Polyjuice Potion can't be brewed overnight."

"And we'll need larger cauldrons," said Harry. "We'll want to make as much as we can, as fast as possible."

"I can go to Diagon Alley to buy the cauldrons," Hermione volunteered.

"It'll be safer if you go in pairs. Does anyone want to go with Hermione?" asked Lupin.

"I do," said Ernie. "I want to stop and see my family while we're out."

"We actually wanted to do that too," said Michael, gesturing between himself and Terry.

"Very well," said Lupin. "It should be better if you stay in a group. Who else wants to go?"

"I wish I could see Gran, but she's still on the run—I'll have to wait for her to contact me," said Neville.

Luna sighed. "I don't know where my father is either, but I'm sure that he's still around. I saw a new edition of _The Quibbler_ a few days before the battle at Hogwarts."

"Well, that's good news, isn't it?" said Ernie, making an attempt at cheerfulness.

"I want to go with Hermione, too," said Ginny.

Mr. Weasley looked at her sternly. "I don't want the three of you to leave this house right now."

"I'll be with Hermione and the others—it'll be fine," Ginny protested.

"It's all right, Ginny," said Harry. "Some of us are going to have to stay behind. I'll stay with Luna and Neville."

George sighed. "I hate sitting around, but for Dad, I guess I'll stay."

Mr. Weasley smiled gratefully.

Ginny looked defeated. "Fine."

"It's settled, then," said Lupin. "I want all of you to travel together. Don't ever linger too long in one place. If you end up separated, don't try to find each other—just come back here as fast as possible. I'd feel a lot better if I knew you were all safely here, but it isn't fair to keep you from your families."

"Don't worry, Lupin. We'll be careful," said Terry.

Lupin managed a small smile. "Good luck."

"If that's all, we should be getting on," Professor Flitwick said

The professors got to their feet and started for the door. Lupin and Mr. Weasley stood with them and followed, escorting them out of the kitchen.

Ginny tapped Hermione on the shoulder. "You said I was dreaming," she said reproachfully.

"I'm sorry, Ginny. I was going to keep it a secret, but Lupin said that it was time to tell everyone."

Harry and Ron had moved to stand next to her.

"Would it have killed you to tell your two best friends?" said Harry.

"Look, I just had to get out of here before I lost my nerve. And I was worried that Lupin would change his mind and tell me I couldn't go."

"And why would that be so awful?" said Ron. "Bloody hell, Hermione, you always said _we_ were reckless. Now you tell us you went off to see You-Know-Who on your own?"

"I knew what I was doing."

"You still should have told us," said Harry.

"I'm doing us all a favor! So please stop acting like I've committed a crime," Hermione snapped.

"Can I see the Dark Mark again?" George asked. He was still sitting next to her.

Hermione sighed and held out her arm. "Go ahead."

George held her wrist gently and pulled her sleeve up, turning her arm over to look at the light skin of her forearm.

"Bloody hell, I just can't believe that it's really there," he said.

Ron shook his head. "Neither can I."

"Does it hurt?" Ginny asked.

"Not anymore."

"Should we get a move on?" asked Michael. He and Terry had also moved around the table with Terry.

Neville, Ernie, and Luna had stayed sitting in their original seats, discussing the ingredients of Polyjuice Potion.

"Yes, let's," said Hermione. She stood up, pulling her arm away from George. "Ernie, do you still want to come with us?"

"Of course," he said. "Bye, Neville, Luna."

Ernie walked around the table to join them.

"We can all Apparate, right?" said Hermione.

There were nods all around the group.

Hermione took charge. "All right. Let's figure out where everyone lives and try to move relatively short distances at a time. Lupin wants us all to stay together, and it'll be easier if we're not trying to go too far away. Anyone have a map?"

They looked around.

"Hermione, aren't you good at geography?" Ron asked.

She sighed. "I don't have all of England memorized, Ronald."

"Sirius might have kept one upstairs, although I doubt it," said Harry. "Let's all go up and look. It'll most likely be in the drawing room, so you guys should check there. I'll look inside his bedroom."

Hermione and Ginny exchanged glances as the others filed out of the room.

When they were alone, Hermione said, "Does Harry talk to you about Sirius?"

Ginny shook her head. "Hardly ever. I think he's still taking it hard."

Yeah well, she was taking Draco's death pretty hard. She wondered what Harry would feel like if she killed Ginny right then. She feigned a concerned expression.

"I hope he'll be okay."

No, not so much.

"Yes, so do I," said Ginny.

"Well, let's go. Boys are hopeless when it comes to finding things, so Luna's the only hope we've got, if we don't go up to help," said Hermione, smiling convincingly.

Ginny laughed at this and walked out of the kitchen.

Hermione's fake smile disappeared as soon as Ginny turned her back. She clenched her jaw and followed her friend out of the room.


	6. V Partners

**Author's Note:** New character this chapter! I hope you guys like him, because he's going to become very important.

**V. Partners**

The next afternoon, Hermione waited with Michael and Ernie in the downstairs living room of Terry Boot's home. They had delayed their departure by one day because they couldn't find a map, and when they had finally decided where they were going, Lupin had returned with news that Death Eaters happened to be particularly focused on Diagon Alley that day. So they'd waited until the next day to set out on their family visits.

Terry's Muggle father looked surprised by the number of guests he'd brought, but he was serving them tea despite their insistence that they didn't want anything.

"Thank you, Mr. Boot," said Hermione, taking a cup from the hospitable Muggle and glancing up at the ceiling. There was an intricate mosaic design laid into the roof, and she marveled inwardly at the skill necessary to execute a spell that would line the tiles up with such precision.

"I've never seen so many of the wizarding kind," Mr. Boot said with a wide smile.

Terry came back downstairs with his mother. "Dad, don't bother them. Wait until Mum's done packing everything, all right?"

Mr. Boot stood up and walked over to his wife, saying, "I still don't understand why we're leaving in such a hurry, darling."

"_You-Know-Who_ might very well be coming, and then we'll be in grave danger," said Mrs. Boot.

"I don't give a hoot! But since you're so worried, I'll call my associates and tell them I will be on sick leave for… a week, you said?"

"No, darling, don't you ever listen to me? A month, I said. A month."

Terry turned to the others as his parents began to argue. "We can go."

As the group stood up and headed for the door, Hermione smiled at the bickering Boots. "Thanks for having us. And the tea was wonderful, Mr. Boot."

"Anytime," said Mr. Boot with a radiant smile before turning back to the argument with his wife.

They left the house.

"Merlin, is your dad always that happy?" said Ernie.

Terry shook his head. "I wish he wasn't."

"So, Michael's house next?" said Hermione.

Michael nodded. They'd visited Ernie's home first; Terry's home was their second stop, and last was Michael's house. From there, they would make their way to the Leaky Cauldron to buy two cauldrons from Diagon Alley.

"On three, then."

She gripped Ernie's elbow tightly.

When they Apparated to Ernie's home earlier that day, he'd gotten nervous and ended up one mile south of his house. Luckily, he'd grown up in that neighborhood and was able to find his way to the group before they abandoned him to return to Grimmauld Place.

After that, Hermione had taken him by Side-Along Apparition to the Boot home without incident.

Hermione felt that familiar squeezing sensation, and when their feet were on solid ground again, she looked around. Ah, the Leaky Cauldron.

Ernie blinked, surprised. "What—what are we doing here?"

Hermione gasped, acting perplexed. "I really don't know—I must have forgotten that we were still stopping at Michael's house. I'm so sorry."

"Well, I suppose it's all right," said Ernie. "Lupin told us to just go back to Grimmauld Place if we got separated, so I expect they'll just head back from Michael's house."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, you're right. Well, let's buy some cauldrons."

"You're easier to recognize. Maybe you should stay here," said Ernie.

"It'll be all right. We'll be in and out in a few minutes."

Ernie took a deep breath. "Very quickly, then."

It pained Hermione to know how much trust Ernie put in her judgment, even as she was preparing to hand him over to the Death Eaters; she'd counted on being recognized as Hermione Granger. Then she and her companion would be subdued and sent to either the Manor or the Ministry, both of which were controlled by the Death Eaters.

She took a deep breath, as if to calm her nerves, and said, "Yes, very quickly."

They stepped into the Leaky Cauldron and moved as swiftly as they could without attracting undue attention. They made it out into the courtyard and tapped the bricks to enter Diagon Alley and even made it into Potage's Cauldron Shop. Hermione chose two large collapsible brass cauldrons and hid among the other cauldrons on display in the shop as Ernie paid up front.

As they stepped out of the shop, Hermione began to wonder if they would make it out, after all.

Just as these thoughts crossed her mind, jets of red light came at them. Hermione dragged Ernie out of the way rapidly, but a new succession of Stunning Spells rendered him unconscious.

Hermione held up both hands in surrender but was promptly struck by another Stunning Spell. She collapsed and knew no more.

"_Lumos," Hermione muttered._

_Draco's face was illuminated by the glow from the tip of her wand. "What's so urgent?" he hissed._

"_Harry's suspicious of you all the time. I'm worried."_

"_I don't care what he thinks."_

"_Well you should! What if you get caught? I can't bear the thought—"_

"_Of a Death Eater getting caught?" Draco spat._

"_Shh, quiet. Don't say that," said Hermione._

_They were hiding in a broom cupboard in a corridor. It was dinnertime, and almost everyone was at the Great Hall._

"_I just… I wanted to tell you to be careful. That's all."_

"_I don't need you to remind me. It's not your life that's on the line."_

_Hermione glared at him. "Well, I'm sorry that I give a damn about what could happen to you, because you obviously don't appreciate it."_

"_No, I don't. I've got enough on my hands as it is, without having to worry about you, and how you're always… fretting about my safety. I know what I'm doing, so please just treat me like nothing's different. I bloody well know that Potter's after me, I don't need you to tell me."_

_Hermione's hand lifted on its own, and before she knew it, she had slapped him._

"_So this is what I get for caring. Fuck you, Draco."_

_Hermione stormed out of the cupboard, and he didn't follow. She went straight to the Great Hall and sat down next to Ginny._

"_What's your problem?" said Ginny, raising her eyebrows at Hermione's angry expression._

"_Ugh, ran into Malfoy outside. I can't stand that good-for-nothing ferret."_

_Ginny sighed and jerked her head toward the couple across the table. Hermione looked up and saw Ron and Lavender tangled in each other's arms, and she quickly looked back at Ginny, repulsed._

"_They're getting to be almost as insufferable as Malfoy," Ginny muttered under her breath._

_Hermione couldn't help but snicker at her comment. She glanced over her shoulder inconspicuously and noticed Draco entering the hall. Their gazes met for a moment as he strolled toward the Slytherin table, and she thought she saw an apology in those molten silver eyes. Then he looked away, and she turned back to her food._

Hermione woke up screaming in agony, but it faded as soon as she opened her eyes. She looked around, panting, and realized from the ornate décor that this had to be a room in the Malfoy Manor.

"Awake, at last," said Bellatrix.

"Rennervate would have been fine," Hermione said bitterly, getting to her feet.

"Yes, but rather less fun."

Hermione looked over to see Ernie lying on the ground, still unconscious. She turned to Bellatrix.

"Well, I brought a student who escaped from the battle at Hogwarts. What am I to do next?"

"Not so fast, girl. You're not finished with this boy."

Hermione was immediately filled with foreboding.

"Today, you will practice using the Cruciatus Curse."

"On him?"

"They all say you're so clever, but you don't seem that clever to me. Yes, of course, you will practice on him."

Hermione took a deep breath and pointed her wand at the still figure lying on the ground. She glanced at Bellatrix out of the corner of her eye and saw a look of delight not unlike the one she'd worn the day she watched Draco use the Cruciatus Curse on Hermione.

Hatred for the woman surged up, and she channeled it into her intentions as she spoke the word.

"Crucio."

Ernie jerked awake violently, crying out in pain. His body convulsed, and Hermione lifted her wand without thinking.

"Her—Her—Hermione?" he gasped.

Ernie looked up at her, wide-eyed, and Hermione could only look at the ground, unable to meet his gaze.

"Again," Bellatrix snapped, clearly unhappy with Hermione's reaction.

Hermione pointed her wand at Ernie again, and he whimpered in dread.

"Crucio."

She tried to block out the image of the squirming boy in front of her, tried to forget the intense pain that had surged through her before—she could hardly stand the thought of causing that type of pain to this boy who had trusted her so implicitly.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore and raised her wand again.

Ernie took in long gulps of air, relieved.

"Again."

Hermione looked up at Bellatrix. "But—" she began to protest.

"Again," Bellatrix repeated uncompromisingly.

Hermione almost apologized to Ernie aloud but stopped herself at the last moment.

"Crucio!" Bellatrix cried.

Ernie thrashed more wildly than before, his screams filling the entire room and echoing off the walls. Bellatrix's face lit up with delight, and Hermione felt utterly revolted. She wanted to Stun her and take Ernie straight back to Grimmauld Place, where he would be safe again.

But what had she expected? She should have known that this would be his fate, should have accepted that as soon as she'd chosen him to take here, he would suffer in this way.

Finally, the screams stopped. Ernie had passed out.

"He's a weak one," said Bellatrix simply. Then she turned to Hermione and said, "You're too soft."

"What should I do to fix that?" Hermione asked in as even a voice as she could manage.

"If it were my choice, I would make you feel the pain of the Cruciatus until you forgot what it was like to live without the pain. I would make sure you knew that the only way to escape from that pain was to inflict it on others and make them suffer more horribly than you did."

It was silent for almost a minute as the two women stared each other down.

"But alas, the Dark Lord has other plans," Bellatrix said finally. She turned. "Zabini!"

A side door opened, but Hermione didn't turn to look—she refused to show interest.

She heard Blaise Zabini's voice, "Should I take Macmillan and lock him up with the others?"

"No, no. You have a much more important job to do," said Bellatrix.

She snapped her fingers, and a house elf appeared behind her, in Hermione's line of sight. Hermione noticed that the poor thing had flattened fingers wrapped in white bandages and remembered what Dobby had once told her about his treatment at the Malfoy Manor.

"Take that boy away and lock him up," said Bellatrix. "When he wakes up, ask if he is hungry. Feed him if you must. Then tell him that I will be there to… _visit_."

The elf dragged Ernie away.

As soon as the door swung shut, Bellatrix's fingertips pressed into Hermione's arm, turning her to face Zabini. Hermione met his eyes, unwavering.

"I trust you two have met before."

Hermione nodded. "Zabini."

"Granger," he replied.

"Blaise, you and Granger are to return to the Order together."

Hermione could barely hide her shock and was about to protest, but Zabini spoke first.

"No way am I going to do anything anywhere with this Mudblood scum."

"The Dark Lord commands it. Do you _dare_ defy him?"

Zabini's furious gaze shifted to the floor.

"He can't be serious," said Hermione. "How am I supposed to take a Death Eater—"

"Ah, but you see…" Bellatrix took two long strides to reach Zabini's side and pulled up his left sleeve to reveal a bare forearm, "…Blaise is not a Death Eater."

Hermione's eyes widened despite her attempt to conceal her surprise. Zabini tugged the sleeve back down.

"You are to say that you saw him already out of the dungeon, trying to escape, and decided to help him before any of us could recapture him. Then, request that the two of you work together, so that you can keep an eye on him at all times."

Zabini started walking toward the door. "Fuck this! I don't want—"

"Do you mean to say you are backing out?" Bellatrix asked. "If so, I hope you're ready to face the consequences of betraying the Dark Lord."

Zabini stopped in his tracks, and Bellatrix smiled evilly. Zabini turned slowly around and returned to Bellatrix's side. He glared at the ground, seething.

"In your time with Granger, you will follow her orders. Much as I dislike Mudbloods, she is smarter than you, and if I had a choice, you would not leave this Manor until you proved yourself worthy."

"You think I'm unworthy?"

"Of course. Clearly, the Dark Lord agrees. Otherwise, you would be one of us already."

Zabini had no comeback to that.

"Granger, now I am going to bind Blaise to you…"

Zabini's jaw dropped, and Hermione blinked, eyes even wider than before. "What?"

Bellatrix continued as though she hadn't heard Hermione, "…so that you will be able to restrain him. The binding will end only with consent from myself or the Dark Lord himself, or if one of you dies. However, if one of you dies, the other will be held fully responsible. Do you understand me?"

Hermione nodded curtly. Zabini seemed to be contemplating making a run for it, and Hermione wished that he would.

Bellatrix conjured a small table with a bowl of clear liquid on top of it.

Hermione felt sick as she walked over to Bellatrix and Zabini. She pulled out her wand, but Bellatrix stopped her.

"I have to use a knife for the cut."

Hermione held out her left hand, and Bellatrix sliced into her palm with a silver knife. Hermione hissed in pain as she watched the blood flow out of her wound and drip into the bowl. The drops of blood swirled as they hit the water, and then Bellatrix murmured a spell to close the wound.

She repeated the process with Zabini's left hand. Then she closed her eyes with her wand tip hovering over the surface of the reddened liquid.

Hermione looked up to see Zabini glaring at her. She looked back down to see that the liquid had turned black.

"Granger, you will drink first. Just a sip is enough."

Hermione reached down to pick up the bowl and raised it to her lips. She tipped it into her mouth. The liquid had turned very thick, almost like a paste, and it tasted disgustingly sweet. She swallowed the bit quickly and coughed as it burned her throat. She put the bowl back down, feeling sick to her stomach. She'd just drunk blood—or what used to be blood.

Zabini spat out the first bit that he tasted.

Bellatrix was furious. "Just what do you think you're doing?" She waved her wand to clean up the flecks that he'd sprayed.

Zabini glared at her, lifted the bowl and tilted his head back, downing the rest of the thick liquid. He slammed the empty bowl down on the table. Hermione stared at him, wondering how he could stand so much of that sickening sweetness.

Bellatrix waved her wand again, and the bowl and table disappeared.

"Leave. I suspect you've been gone long enough, and they'll be wondering what's happened to you."

Hermione nodded. "Goodbye."

She started toward the door.

"Well, Zabini?" she heard Bellatrix say.

Then she heard footsteps behind her.

She held back the urge to heave a sigh. She really needed to think these things over, but she was too afraid to think too much in front of Bellatrix, for fear of her skill in Legilimency. Hermione had confidence in her own skill in Occlumency, but it was better not to take that risk.

As soon as they were outside the gates of the Manor, Hermione decided that she had to talk to Zabini before they went to Grimmauld Place. She turned around to face him and saw that he had a small smile on his face.

"What are _you_ smiling about?"

"I never would have thought you would come for Draco," he said.

"Well, I did. Surprise, surprise. Look, we have to talk about what's going to happen when we get to the Order," said Hermione.

"Sure. I'm all ears."

"First of all, you are never to tell anyone the location of headquarters, or leave without my permission, or take anyone else there."

Zabini nodded.

"Next, you have to act the part if you're going to stay at the Order. That means no more 'filthy Mudblood,' 'stinking half-bloods,' or 'worthless blood traitors.'"

He nodded again, and Hermione noticed that he'd stepped closer. He wasn't as tall as Draco, but he still towered over her, so she backed up a step.

"When we explain what happened, you are allowed to make up the story as far as escaping the jail cell is concerned. After that, I'll take over, and you will follow my lead."

Zabini nodded, and her back hit the wrought-iron gates.

As Zabini raised a hand, Hermione hissed, "_Don't_ touch me."

His hand froze a hair's breadth from her cheek, and she shoved it away from her.

"Looks like that damned binding magic works," said Zabini.

"Good."

Hermione grabbed his hand and, without a warning, Apparated onto the doorstep of Grimmauld Place.

Zabini sighed as he looked at the building. "Leave it to you fi—" his voice cut off on its own when he tried to speak the forbidden phrase.

Hermione glared at him.

"All right, fine. Leave it to you _righteous people_ to choose a dingy place like this for headquarters. It doesn't even come _close_ to the Manor."

"Just shut up," said Hermione.

She opened the door. Ron, who was coming down the steps, saw Zabini and cursed loudly.

"You! What are you—"

The curtains flew open, and Mrs. Black started screaming again.

"Bloody hell, who _is_ that?" hollered Zabini.

Hermione groaned, exasperated. "Ron!"

She hurried for the kitchen just as Harry came out to investigate the source of the noise. Seeing the Slytherin behind Hermione, his eyes widened, and he whipped his wand out. Hermione realized that she hadn't given him an order not to attack members of the Order and frantically thought, _Don't you dare touch your wand, Zabini_, wishing that her sheer will would be enough to control him.

"Calm down. I'll explain in a minute," she said to Harry.

Ron also had a wand trained on Zabini as they moved toward the kitchen.

Hermione realized that she could practically _feel_ Zabini itching to grab his wand. That meant her thought had worked for restraining him. This new realization was surprising.

As they entered the kitchen, Hermione saw George, Ginny, Neville, Luna, Michael, and Terry opening packages and checking ingredients.

Everyone drew their wands as soon as Zabini entered the room, and Hermione began to wonder if he had fought on the Dark side at Hogwarts. She hadn't seen him in battle.

_Don't touch your wand_, she reminded him in her head.

Then she sat on the bench and leaned back against the table so that she was facing Zabini. "Relax, everyone. I'll explain."

None of them lowered their wands.

She was frustrated but went ahead, "They ambushed us—Ernie and me—in the middle of Diagon Alley and brought us to the Manor. I was released, but they took Ernie away."

"Shame," said Luna softly. "He was nice."

"Shame? That's all you've got to say to her?" said Terry. He turned to Hermione. "I think you should've done something about it."

"And what should I have done, rescued him? I might as well have gone on and announced my allegiance to the Order!"

"She's right, you know," said George.

"Well, what were you doing in Diagon Alley anyway?" Michael asked. "We were supposed to be Apparating to my house, not the Leaky Cauldron."

She looked down. "Ernie suggested it. I didn't see the harm, since we'd already seen his family, and it wasn't as if we would get anything out of visiting your family."

"But Lupin said to stick together," Ron pointed out.

"Well I think I made the right choice. If we'd all gone to Diagon Alley together, then Michael and Terry would've been captured as well, I'm sure of it. There were at least a dozen people aiming Stunning spells and Ernie and me. I doubt having two extra people would have helped us escape."

Silence followed her words.

Then Harry asked, "What's Zabini doing here?"

"I was about to leave the Manor, and I saw a closet start to open a tiny bit. He'd been hiding inside and he was about to make a run for it," said Hermione. _Talk now_, she thought.

"They—" began Zabini.

"No one asked _you_," said Ron, jabbing his wand in Zabini's direction.

Zabini spun around, reaching for his wand.

"No, stop!" Hermione said.

Zabini was left just glaring at Ron while Ron barely stopped himself from hexing the Slytherin. Everyone in the room was on edge.

Hermione sighed. "They had him locked up underground with the other students, in separate cells. I have no idea how he got out." She looked up at Zabini.

"Weasley—not going to attack me for talking, are you?" Zabini snarled.

"Oh, stop it," said Hermione. "Can everyone please put down their wands?"

"Honestly, I feel safer this way," said George.

"Zabini, give me your wand—please," said Hermione.

Zabini reached into his robes and pulled out his wand.

"Expelliarmus!" Ron shouted.

Zabini was thrown backwards, his head colliding with the table. He crumpled to the ground, and Ron caught the wand that flew out of his hand.

"Ronald Weasley!" said Hermione disapprovingly as she helped Zabini up onto the bench beside her.

"Are you sure he's not a Death Eater, Hermione?" asked Neville.

"Honestly, you'd think we'd be past old House prejudices by now," said Hermione.

She knew she was being hypocritical, but the only person who would know it was Zabini, and he was too busy rubbing the back of his head to butt in.

"Just because he's in Slytherin doesn't mean he's a Death Eater," she continued. She lifted his left arm and pulled up the sleeve. "See? No Mark. I'm not stupid."

After a moment of silent shock from her fellow students, Ginny spoke up.

"How did you get out?"

Zabini just glared at Ron, refusing to speak.

"Ron, give him back his wand," said Harry.

"Harry…"

"He's got eight wands on him, at the ready. What's he gonna do?" said George.

Ron grudgingly handed Zabini's wand back to him, but Zabini automatically passed it to Hermione. She looked up at him, as surprised as all the others, but then remembered that she had given him an order, and he couldn't disobey.

Zabini explained to everyone casually, "So you won't suspect me of trying to pull anything."

When no one objected, Zabini kept talking.

"A house elf recognized me because Draco's my best mate and invited me over a couple times. The elf thought his masters made a mistake, so he let me out."

They looked at him in disbelief.

"What? I wasn't about to correct him," said Zabini.

"We're not surprised at you accepting help from a house elf," said Terry. "It's just…"

"Hard to believe," Michael finished for him.

"Well, I don't know what else to tell you."

"Anyway," said Hermione. "I decided when I saw him that we could use all the help we can get. If Lupin comes back and says not to let him stay, I'll wipe his memory myself. Until then, I'll keep an eye on him. Satisfied?"

Eyes shifted to Harry, who mulled it over for a moment.

"Yeah, all right," he said finally. "Lupin might not be back for a few days—the professors are all going abroad to find help, and to kill Death Eaters if they can find them. Madam Pomfrey stopped by to give us these packages while you lot were still out, and she's off to France now. I guess Zabini can stay here until Lupin comes back. He won't be allowed to leave the house, though."

Hermione nodded.

"Can I have my wand back now?" Zabini asked her.

"No—don't give it to him," said Ron.

"You're safe here, Zabini. You won't need it," said Hermione.

"Safe? Didn't you see what that weasel did to me?"

Hermione made a mental note to make 'weasel' off-limits too. "He only disarmed you. If you don't have a wand, then he won't have a reason to disarm you."

"There are tons of hexes that they're all probably dying to use on me, Hermione."

"It's Granger to you," she said sternly.

The others had gone back to sorting out ingredients and labeling their containers.

Harry motioned for Ron to go outside, and then said, "Hermione, come help us subdue Mrs. Black."

Hermione got to her feet. "All right."

She followed Harry to the door and glanced back to see Zabini looking almost afraid that she was leaving. She knew his pride would never let him ask her to stay.

_Don't do anything stupid. You're wandless, and you know Ginny hates your guts. Don't provoke her._

With that, she exited and shut the door behind her. After some effort, Harry, Ron, and Hermione managed to tug the curtains back into place. Then Hermione started toward the kitchen again. It probably wasn't a good idea to leave Zabini alone with the others for an extended length of time.

"Hermione," said Harry. "Can you come with us? We haven't been alone, just the three of us, in ages. We really need to talk."

Hermione nodded. "All right."

She followed them upstairs into their room.

Harry shut the door and murmured, "Muffliato."

"What's gotten into you?" Ron demanded as soon as he knew no one outside the room would be able to hear them.

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione.

"Since when were you taking Occlumency with Snape? Why didn't you tell us you were going to be a Death Eater? How the hell did you even manage to pull that off? And why were you defending _Blaise Zabini_, of all people? He's the enemy!"

"Calm down, Ron," said Harry. "Hermione, we just wanted to know if everything's okay."

"I thought I already explained why I kept secrets from you two. And besides, if I'd told you what I wanted to do, you never would have let me go."

"Exactly!" said Ron.

"We need to know what they're up to, what they're planning," said Hermione.

"Well have you found out anything?"

"No, but I've only just joined—Voldemort couldn't possibly trust me with crucial information yet."

"Well… you gave Ernie up to the Death Eaters!" said Ron.

"We were _ambushed!_ There was nothing I could have done to save him without being revealed!"

"Don't lose your tempers," said Harry.

Hermione continued, "And _don't_ accuse me of defending Zabini. I don't like him either! But he was a fellow student at Hogwarts who was lucky enough to get out of his cell, and no one was watching, so I had the power to help him! Do you honestly believe that I could have just walked away? Besides, he could help us—like it or not, we all _know_ he's clever."

Ron's face was red with anger, but he had nothing to say.

"Now if you're going to keep taking offense for everything that I do, I'm going to assume that it's because I didn't want to kiss you, and that's what I'll tell people."

Ron looked as if he's just been slapped, and Harry gasped.

"Boys, I'm tired," she said before either of them could say anything. "I'm tired of being the nice, good girl who has to smile even when the going's rough. We're in a war. I've chosen the happy job of being a spy, which is so critical to both sides, but all I get is constant scrutiny. Nobody trusts me, and I'm already finding it harder to trust everyone else."

She hadn't meant to speak these feelings aloud, but now that they were out, she felt some relief. She began to understand why Snape had developed such a cold demeanor. She'd only been at this for a few days, and she already felt like she was beginning to lose it. Snape had been at it for years…

Harry and Ron were just watching her, as if not sure how they should react.

"I'm sorry if you don't like how I've changed. But I really don't know how else to handle my situation right now," she said with a sigh.

"You could tell us, you know," said Harry. "About—"

Hermione shook her head. "No, I can't tell you anything. I won't talk about my missions unless it's absolutely necessary. Without a doubt, Voldemort will focus on my missions when he sorts through my thoughts, and while I might be able to hide some memories from him, I can't risk accidentally leaving out a single bloody conversation that he might see as a threat. Even the conversation I'm having with you right this instant, I know I'm going to have to hide."

Suddenly a strange panic rose in her chest.

"I'm… sorry, Hermione," said Ron. "I didn't know how stressed out you were."

The panic was increasing, but Hermione managed to keep her voice level.

"Well, now you know."

Her heart rate was increasing, and she almost started to feel nauseous. There was no rational explanation for this!

"Let's go back downstairs," she said.

"All right," said Harry, opening the door.

They heard muffled pounding coming from downstairs and Hermione gasped. She silently rushed downstairs, followed closely by Harry and Ron. Hermione jiggled the door handle and couldn't open it, so she pulled out her wand. _Alohomora!_ The lock clicked, and she pushed the door open.

The three of them rushed inside and shut the door behind them so as not to disturb Mrs. Black outside.

Neville and Ginny were being restrained by Michael and Terry, who were yelling hoarsely for George to stop. George, meanwhile, had pinned Zabini to the wall and was punching him repeatedly in the face.

"I told you they were coming," Luna said calmly when they stormed in—she was still standing by the ingredients and seemed to have stayed neutral.

"Stop, everyone," said Harry. "All of you."

Everyone stopped struggling except George, who continued pounding away at the Slytherin's face.

"George, stop it!" Hermione shouted. She waved her wand, and George staggered back a few steps.

"What happened?" Ron asked.

"_He_," Ginny pointed to Zabini, who had slid to the ground in a heap, "called me a… a…"

"Don't repeat it," said George heatedly. "I can't guarantee that I'll be able to control myself."

Hermione had squatted in front of Zabini and placed a hand on his cheek to turn his face to the other side. He didn't resist. She shook her head.

"George, you couldn't have just Stunned him and left it at that?" she said, standing and turning around.

"_Stun_ him? I was going to hex him to death, but those two gits disarmed me, Ginny, _and_ Neville before we could do anything," said George.

"Look, he was just mouthing off. It was nothing worth killing for," said Michael.

Hermione sighed. "Zabini, are you okay?" she asked without turning to look at him. She heard him getting to his feet, using the wall as support.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Can I have my wand back _now?_"

"Come on," said Hermione, ignoring his question. "I'm not gonna let all of you get into another fight."

She exited the kitchen and led Zabini upstairs into her room.

"Muffliato," she said as she closed and locked the door.

"Thanks," Zabini mumbled.

Hermione turned around. "What?"

"Thanks," Zabini snapped, louder this time.

"For what?"

"For getting there before he knocked me out. That would've been embarrassing."

Hermione sighed. "You were being beaten like that, and you were still worried about appearances? Ugh, it's no wonder you and Draco were such close friends."

Zabini chuckled. "Yeah, we were pretty similar. But he always had more luck with the girls."

"Oh, really? What makes you say that?"

"Well, isn't it obvious? He had someone who loved him a lot."

Hermione realized that he was talking about her. "_Oh._ Yes, well…"

Zabini sighed. "I knew about you and Draco."

Hermione frowned. Knew? In the past tense? Did that mean he'd known before she told Voldemort and the Death Eaters?

"He didn't mean for it to happen, but we were best mates," Zabini explained. "We hadn't gone for drinks in months, so I told him it was about time that we had some fun. We went to a bar, and a few bottles of firewhiskey later, he accidentally let it slip. He started going on and on about how worried he was for your safety."

Hermione turned away. She didn't want to show weakness in front of him.

"I thought he'd gone mad, but in the morning when we sobered up, I asked him about it, and he hesitated, so I started pestering him about it. Eventually, he came clean."

"So," said Hermione without turning back, "you know everything."

"Yes. Your little friends believe you're faking it, and that's what the Death Eaters thought too, at first. But I knew it was real."

"You were there that night?" asked Hermione, turning back around.

She hadn't recognized him, but then again, she'd been too preoccupied with staying alive and putting on a convincing show. The Death Eaters had all looked the same to her behind their masks.

Zabini nodded. "They let me wear the robes and a mask."

"Oh, I see."

After a pause, Zabini said, "Draco, he… he thought you'd never leave the Light side, and it killed him that he _couldn't_ leave the Dark side. I just wish he knew that you would—that you _did_ come for him."

Unable to trust her voice, Hermione whispered, "Me too."

Their eyes met, and for a moment, they understood each other completely, brought together by grief for the loss of the same person. It was as if in that moment, all the animosity they'd felt toward each other dissolved.

"Thank you, Zabini."

"When we're alone, you can call me Blaise."

"Then, thank you, Blaise."

* * *

**Author's Note:** I sorta made up the binding magic. If someone else has used it before, then I guess it was a funny coincidence! I'm sure I'm not the only one who's thought something up like that. And I really hope you guys don't mind Blaise, because he's here to stay, at least for a while. Anyway, leave me a review and tell me what you think! It'll motivate me to keep writing :)


	7. VI Murderer

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the delay in updating. I'm finally done with finals now, yay!

**VI. Murderer**

_Hermione crept into the hospital wing and walked past a couple empty beds to the one with its curtains drawn. She pulled aside the curtains on one side, stepped inside, and drew them together again. She sat at the edge of Draco's bed and looked at his face, peaceful in slumber._

_Harry had apparently stumbled upon Draco in a bathroom and confronted him about his mission. Draco had attacked Harry, who used one of the spells that he'd gotten from the Half Blood Prince's damned book. Hermione knew that he hadn't meant to hurt Draco that badly, but she was still angry with him. How could he just use a spell without knowing what it did? He could have killed Draco without even meaning to!_

_Since Hermione couldn't reveal her relationship with Draco, she could only tell Harry off for behaving rashly and using that spell without ever researching it. Ron had pointed out that it was "only Malfoy," and Hermione had exploded in his face._

"_And just because he's a Malfoy, you think it's all right to kill him? My god, Ronald! Don't you understand? Intentionally or not, Harry would have gotten into huge trouble if Malfoy had died right then," she had said._

"_Why are you defending that slimy git?" Ron had demanded._

"_I'm not! It has nothing to do with _whom_ Harry attacked, it's the fact that he attacked at all!"_

_She pushed away the thoughts of that argument and looked back at Draco. Moonlight came in through the high windows and illuminated his face, and his hair seemed to sparkle. She softly stroked the silky, silver-blonde strands._

_Draco stirred, opened his eyes, and smiled sleepily at her. "Am I dead?" he whispered._

"_What?"_

"_It seems I'm being visited by an angel."_

_Hermione laughed softly. "I brought you some chocolate from Honeydukes." She pointed to a small bag on his bedside table._

"_You shouldn't have come."_

"_I know, but… I had to apologize. I can't believe Harry actually used a spell without knowing anything about it."_

_Draco shook his head. "Don't apologize. It's the beginning of a war. People are bound to get hurt. And in all fairness, I did attack him first."_

"_I just hate seeing you lying here," she said softly._

_Her eyes focused on a particularly deep gash in his cheek._

"_Oh, don't worry. Madam Pomfrey tells me that it won't leave a scar, so my face is going to be just as perfect as it used to be," Draco said with a small smirk._

_Hermione couldn't help but smile at him. "If you weren't already so hurt, I'd hex you for being such an arrogant git."_

_Draco's smirk widened. "You know you like it."_

"_No, I don't."_

"_Deny it all you want, but we both know the truth."_

_Hermione laughed and pressed her lips to his forehead._

"_Hermione…"_

"_Yes?" she said as she sat up straight._

"_Are you worried about what's coming?"_

_She nodded. "A little."_

"_Me too."_

"_Draco… Katie Bell, and Rosmerta's mead… that wasn't you, was it?"_

"_We agreed not to talk about it. I haven't asked about what Potter's doing with Dumbledore lately, have I?"_

"_No, but—well, I couldn't tell you that much about it even if you did ask. I don't even know how much Harry is telling us."_

"_Either way, I'm not asking."_

_Hermione nodded. "Yes, you're right. If I find out anything from you, I'll feel obligated to tell someone."_

_Draco started to sit up, but she gently pressed his shoulders down._

"_Don't move. You don't want to break open any scabs."_

"_I want to kiss you."_

_Hermione leaned down and brushed his lips with hers, and then sat back up. His silver eyes sparkled in the moonlight that filtered in through the window, and as his lips curved into a smile, Hermione felt that she'd never seen anyone—or anything—more beautiful._

"_Yes I know, I'm gorgeous."_

_Hermione sighed. "Leave it to you to ruin the moment," she grumbled._

_Smiling, Draco said, "You should probably go. Blaise said that he was coming to visit me soon, and I think he meant either tonight or tomorrow night."_

_Hermione gasped. "Why didn't you tell me before? What if he saw me?"_

"_Any excuse would have worked. Prefect rounds?"_

"_At three in the morning? He'd have to be daft to believe that."_

"_Merlin, is that the time?"_

_Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes."_

"_Well how'd you expect me to know the time?"_

"_I honestly don't know." She leaned down to kiss him again, and as she started to back up, he lifted his chin to keep their lips in contact for a moment longer. "I'll visit you again later," she said with a small smile._

"_Don't get caught—even a prefect might get in trouble for being out this late."_

_Hermione stuck her tongue out at him and immediately felt foolish, but as soon as he laughed at her, all embarrassment melted away, leaving behind a warm feeling that enveloped her from head to toe._

"_Get better soon," she said._

"_I will."_

_Hermione stood up, but her eyes stayed on his face._

"_Can't leave?" Draco smirked. "My, oh my, I've gotten beautiful enough to petrify people. Wonder how long it'll take before I'll be able to kill someone with my looks."_

"_You're an insufferable prat, you know that?"_

"_Why yes, I do."_

_He was still smirking when she turned around and walked away from his bed._

"_Good night, Hermione," she heard him say._

_She turned as she opened the door leading out of the hospital wing and looked at the curtain that had fallen into place behind her._

"_Good night, Draco."_

Someone shook her gently.

"Hermione, wake up."

That voice didn't sound very familiar…

"It's time to get up."

Hermione opened an eye to look at the person who was disturbing her and realized that it was very dark. She squinted to see who was waking her up.

"Zabini?"

"Blaise."

"What are you doing in my room? Ginny and Luna—"

"They won't wake. Don't worry. Let's go."

"Go where?"

"The Dark Lord gave us an assignment. We should go."

"_Us?_ How come I don't know about it, then?"

Blaise sighed. "Just come with me."

"Answer my question."

Blaise seemed to struggle for a moment before the binding magic between them forced him to speak.

"The Dark Lord says he still doesn't trust you enough to carry out the exact instructions he's giving us. You can't force me to tell you."

"Why not?"

"He gave me permission to defy any order that would end up with you knowing what we're about to do ahead of time."

Hermione sighed as she stood up. "How long is this going to take?"

"We'll be back before sunrise. Now come on."

"Get out of my room first. I have to get dressed."

Blaise walked out promptly, and Hermione got dressed, looking at the sleeping forms of Ginny and Luna. It'd been two days since she'd been forced to torture Ernie Macmillan at the Malfoy Manor, and Voldemort hadn't contacted her to give her a new assignment. She'd been forced to sit around Grimmauld place and wait for Lupin to return; Harry objected to anything that would mean Blaise had to leave the house, and since Hermione and Blaise were apparently joined at the hip, that meant Hermione couldn't leave either.

The first day was awful. Blaise and Neville, who shared a room because Blaise had taken Ernie's now-vacant bed, came downstairs into the kitchen arguing, and it escalated to the point where everyone had drawn their wands, ready to start hexing. Hermione had spent the rest of the day upstairs in her room, alone with Blaise.

The second day—today—was a little better. Everyone was civil, even if that meant hardly anyone spoke, but Hermione was able to stay downstairs in the kitchen, reading. Blaise had sat down in front of her and just watched. She didn't know what he was looking at and had offered to let him read her book, but he had simply shaken his head and looked away. Not a minute later, she'd caught him staring at her again, but she didn't bring it up. She'd been relieved when it was time to go to bed.

Hermione stepped out of her room, fully dressed, and Blaise reached up to remove her cloak.

"What are you doing?" she hissed.

"You won't need it."

Hermione glared at him. "If I freeze to death, it's on you."

"You won't freeze."

Hermione went back into her room to drop off her cloak and then came back outside. Blaise was already downstairs by the front door, looking up at her. She hurried silently down the steps, and they exited the house.

Once the door was closed, Blaise produced two large cloaks that Hermione recognized as part of Death Eater attire. She sighed and took the one he handed to her, slipping her arms into the sleeves and shrugging it on. He passed her a mask. Upon inspection, she realized that it didn't have a strap to secure it to her head. She frowned and pressed the mask up to her face hesitantly. As soon as the cool metal came into contact with her skin, the inside molded to the shape of her face. The sides extended around her head, meeting at the back.

Alarmed, she reached her hands behind her head to try to pry the mask off.

"Oh, stop it," said Blaise, tugging her hands down.

Then, without a warning, she felt that familiar constricting sensation, and a moment later, they were standing in an unfamiliar neighborhood. Hermione looked around warily.

"Where—" she began to ask.

"Shh," Blaise shushed her. "Let's go."

He walked decisively to the door of the nearest house, and Hermione followed hesitantly, dread rising in her gut. This couldn't be anything good. She prayed that the owners weren't home.

"Unlock the door. I'll show you what we're doing," said Blaise, standing to the side of the door.

Hermione sighed and pointed her wand at the door.

_Alohomora_.

As soon as the lock clicked, Blaise swung the door inward, then cursed as a red jet of light flew at his face. He ducked, and Hermione skipped out of the way.

"Crucio!" Hermione heard Blaise's voice, followed by the screams of a woman.

Flinching at the sound, she dove into the house and pulled the door shut—she didn't want the neighbors to hear.

"Stupefy!" cried a deep male voice.

A jet of red light flew straight at Blaise, and Hermione instinctively threw a Shield Charm around him. The red light bounced back toward the conjurer, and she heard a thud.

Hermione froze. What had she just done? That man was likely innocent.

The woman was still screaming, and Hermione grabbed Blaise's arm.

"Stop it!"

Blaise was forced to lift his wand away from his victim. Hermione flicked on the light switch and saw a middle-aged woman lying on the ground.

"Please…" the woman murmured weakly.

Blaise picked up the wand that she had dropped.

"What are we doing here?" Hermione hissed at him.

Blaise just pointed his wand at the woman again.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Hermione flinched as the flash of green light blinded her. The woman was limp on the ground.

"Your turn," said Blaise.

"_My_ turn?"

"You took him down, so he's yours. Go ahead."

"Technically, he took himself down," said Hermione.

Blaise just looked at her, and she wished she could see his face behind that mask. She glared at him but realized that he couldn't see her expression either.

She turned to look at the man who had been Stunned by his own rebounding spell. He had fallen down a flight of stairs and lay in a crumpled heap at the bottom. She took a few steps toward him.

How could she do this? How could she murder a man who was completely incapable of defending himself? What had he done to deserve this?

Her right arm lifted steadily until her wand was pointed at the limp figure on the ground. She suddenly felt extremely detached from her body.

"Why?" she heard herself ask.

"Don't think. Just do it."

"I can't."

"Then think about why you're here."

Hermione was surprised by how gentle his voice was.

"Think about why you're doing this and why you pledged yourself to the Dark Lord. Think about Draco. If you want to avenge him, you have to follow orders. And if you're going to follow orders, you're going to have to toughen up."

Hermione took a deep breath. Her hand trembled. Still unable to utter the words, she let the air in her lungs rush back out. Would Draco really want her to do this?

Then Blaise's tone turned hard. "You put on a really good show that night at the Manor. You had me thinking you were a lot stronger than you are. This, right here, is weak."

How dare he call her weak! Being unable to kill an innocent human being wasn't a sign of weakness! Hermione was furious, but she couldn't make a sound. There was a nagging possibility lingering at the back of her mind. What if he was right?

Blaise continued, louder, "How do you expect to get revenge when you can't even kill a stranger? He's your best friend, isn't he? When it comes down to killing Potter, or any other members of the Order, is this what you're gonna do? Are you just gonna freeze up and let them walk free?"

Hermione exploded at this last question and spun around, pointing her wand at Blaise. "Don't say that! Who are you to judge whether I'm strong or weak? What makes you think you know so much about me? When I said that I would kill off members of the Order to punish him, I meant it! And if I get the chance to kill him myself, I won't even flinch."

Blaise's eyes glinted. "All right, then. _Prove_ it. Pretend that that man is Harry Potter, and _prove_ that you would have the guts to kill Draco's murderer."

She froze. He'd been provoking her intentionally. Cursing her emotions for getting the better of her, she turned back around to face the man lying on the ground. Gritting her teeth, she raised her wand.

But this man hadn't done anything wrong!

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and thought furiously of Draco's wide-open, empty eyes. Rage surged through her, and she heard her own voice.

"Avada Kedavra!"

When she opened her eyes, she saw that the man looked pretty much the same as he had before she cast her spell. But he wasn't breathing anymore. Hermione let her arm fall to her side, her fingers loosely gripping her wand. She couldn't move a muscle.

She'd just killed an innocent man.

"All right, come on. We have to keep moving."

Hermione didn't move.

"Come _on_."

Hands gripped her shoulders, and she allowed herself to be steered through the house and out the back door into the backyard. She looked over at Blaise to see him pointing his wand up at the sky.

"Morsmordre!"

The Dark Mark slowly materialized above the house, and Hermione started to feel sick.

Blaise gripped her arm tightly, and they Disapparated.

They hit one house after another.

The victims were usually middle-aged couples, although there had been a few homes with children inside. Hermione had forced Blaise to leave the toddlers alone through the binding magic, and he had been furious. "The Dark Lord said not to leave _any_ survivors," he'd hissed, but Hermione wouldn't hear it. She knew she had already fallen too deep as far as morals were concerned, but she still had to draw the line _somewhere_.

When she'd asked how many houses were left, he'd refused to tell her.

Finally, Blaise informed her that there was just one left to go. They Apparated in front of a very familiar house—she'd been here only two days ago. She held back a gasp and glanced at Blaise, who was already moving toward the front door.

The Boots had left and wouldn't be back for a month, so no one would be home… right?

Blaise turned from the doorstep and, realizing that she still hadn't moved, gestured impatiently for her to join him. Hermione walked up the steps, and Blaise indicated with a small gesture that this time, she was to stand to the side of the door while he unlocked it. They'd been alternating since the beginning. She took a deep breath and nodded, prepared to throw the door open.

He pointed his wand at the door, and as soon as she heard the lock click, she turned the knob and shoved the door inward.

Red light flashed before her eyes, and everything blacked out.

_She watched a hooded figure crumple to the ground before her and fired an attack at the source of the Stunning spell. Inside the house, a vase shattered. She leaped over her partner and into the house, immediately ducking as another Stunning spell shot at her._

_She glimpsed the attacker, but his face looked unfamiliar to her._

_Her wand arm rose of its own accord and fired a spell unknown to her. She spun agilely to dodge something that spurted out of the opponent's wand._

_Something sliced the side of her head. What the fuck was that?_

_Another two spells unknown to her were fired in quick succession from her wand, and the second one hit its mark. The man cried out in agony. Somehow she'd expected that reaction._

_The pain in her head was almost unbearable. She'd have to numb it as soon as possible._

_She immediately dropped to the ground, ducking a bright green jet of light. That curse she recognized._

_Then she fired a new spell, and the opponent was hit square in the chest. But there was no way for her to finish him off—the blast had sent him flying out of the house, smashing through a first-floor window. Damn it, he was going to get away!_

_By the time she reached the window, he'd Disapparated._

_She dropped to the floor, almost blinded by pain now that the threat was gone. She pointed her wand at her head and muttered a spell that would numb the pain and another to stop the bleeding. She removed her mask and cleaned off her face. Then she hurried back to the front door to help her partner into the house before pulling the door shut._

_She pulled off her partner's mask and raised her wand._

"_Rennervate."_

Her eyelids fluttered, and she struggled to open them all the way.

What a bizarre dream…

When she was finally able to open her eyes all the way, everything was blurry. A figure loomed over her, and she couldn't tell who it was. She blinked a few times and saw Blaise's face come into focus.

"Hermione? Are you all right?"

She nodded slowly, still lying down. "What happened? Where are we?"

With a jolt, she recognized the designs on the roof.

"This is Terry Boot's house," said Blaise, not noticing her reaction. "I suppose the Order came here already. The Boots were gone."

"Well, I could've told you that," said Hermione, closing her eyes.

The left side of her head was throbbing in the same place that she'd been attacked in the dream, and she couldn't understand why—it _had_ been a dream, hadn't it?

"I came with Terry and the others to warn them," she said.

Blaise frowned. "That's unlucky."

"Was I Stunned?"

"Yes, you were. By an Auror. Savage, by the looks of it. I recognized him from last year, when he was stationed in Hogsmeade."

A warm droplet hit Hermione's cheek, and she realized that her mask was gone. She lifted a hand to wipe away the liquid. Blaise grabbed her hand to stop her, but she'd touched the liquid already. She held her hand away from her face and saw red. Blood?

"Blaise… you're bleeding."

Blood had trickled down the left side of his face and dripped onto her face from his cheek. He rocked back on his heels as Hermione sat up. She reached out to turn his head so she could survey the damage, but he got to his feet abruptly.

"Damn, I thought I'd closed that up already," he muttered.

"What happened?" Hermione asked, getting to her feet slowly. Could it be a coincidence that his wound was right where she'd been attacked in her… for lack of a better word, her dream?

"Savage attacked me. Don't worry—he'll be more scarred than I am."

Hermione grabbed his wand hand as he started pointing it at his own head.

"Let me," she said.

Blaise looked like he was going to disobey, but the binding magic forced him to lower his wand. She turned his head and stepped closer to look at the wound.

It looked like an animal with sharp claws had run two of its claws into his head, and she winced as she saw bits of white—his skull. It was amazing that he was still standing. He must have used some spell to numb the pain and speed up blood clotting.

"Did you honestly think you could heal this on your own?" she said softly.

She lifted her wand and pointed it at the wound.

"Vulnera Sanentur," she murmured, and the blood flow stopped.

She repeated the incantation, and the wounds began to close up. The throbbing in the side of her head began to ease up as well, and she took a deep breath. Was this the doing of the binding magic? It was really starting to scare her. One last repetition, and his scalp seemingly stitched itself back together. The side of her head itched just watching it.

"That's really, really itchy," said Blaise.

"Don't scratch."

"Thanks."

Hermione looked at him, confused.

"When you give an order, I physically can't defy it. Now I don't have to resist the urge anymore, because I physically _can't_ scratch it."

"I see," she said. "Well, it looks a lot better now. We don't have dittany, so you'll probably have a scar."

"That's fine," said Blaise. "Thanks again."

"You… saved my life. I should be thanking you."

Blaise shrugged. "We're partners. And besides, I was saving my own life, too. You heard Bellatrix. If one of us dies, the other is held responsible. I'd rather be the one who dies than the one who has to face _her_ fury."

Hermione laughed, and it felt good. She felt like she hadn't laughed in too long.

Blaise smiled. "We should go."

"Yes, we should." She started toward the back door of the house.

"When will the Boots be back?" Blaise asked as he followed her. "The Dark Lord will want to know."

"Honestly? I don't know," said Hermione. "They were still arguing about it when we left the house."

"Shame. Let's go back to Grimmauld Place. It's been a long night, and sunrise is in about an hour, so we can still catch a bit of sleep."

"Wait. Can we… can we make one more stop?"

"Well, you're the boss, technically," said Blaise. "Where do you want to go?"

Hermione gripped his arm tightly and concentrated on her destination.

When she opened her eyes again, she saw the small, familiar living room, and her eyes immediately began to sting.

"Where are we?"

Hermione couldn't reply—she couldn't find her voice. Blaise looked at her face and seemed to understand. Without another word, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. Surprised, she started to push him away.

"It's okay, you can cry," he said softly.

The floodgates opened, and the river of tears that she'd been holding back since the beginning streamed down her face. She slipped her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder, her sobs shaking both of them. She hadn't cried like this for a long, long time.

They stayed standing in the dark living room for a long time, silent except for her sobbing. Eventually, her tears stopped flowing, but she didn't want to let go of him—aside from the slight height difference, his build was almost exactly the same as Draco's and she wanted to lie to herself and say that he _was_ Draco.

Finally, she pulled her arms back, and he released her.

"Are you okay?" he asked, still in that soft voice.

Hermione nodded. "Yes."

She began to wonder what she was doing. This was Blaise Zabini, a Slytherin who'd sworn that he hated Muggle-borns and half-bloods, yet she was accepting comfort from him and showing him more of herself than she was showing anyone else—already in the last few minutes, he'd gotten her to laugh harder than she'd laughed in a while, and cry harder than she had in years.

And what was _he_ doing? Why was he offering her that comfort in the first place?

"Why what?" Blaise said.

"Hmm?"

"You asked me 'why' a second ago."

"Oh… I said something out loud? I didn't mean to," said Hermione. After a pause, she said, "Since I already started, I just wanted to ask you—why are you taking care of me like this?"

"I'm not taking care of you."

"I know you are. You made me kill that man tonight, but afterwards, you killed most of the other victims for me. And—"

"That was just because I knocked them out. They were mine."

"—you saved me from the Auror—"

"Well, that was to save myself—"

"—and I've noticed—"

"—more than it was—"

"—that you were staring—"

"—to save—_what?_" Blaise finally interrupted both of them—they'd been talking over each other.

"I—"

"I wasn't staring at you," said Blaise.

"Yes, you were. I'm not stupid. You're clearly looking after me. Why?"

Blaise sighed. After a long pause, he finally said, "Because I promised a certain guy that I would. I think you know who he was."

"Why would he make you promise that? He—he can't have known he was going to—"

"I told him he wouldn't die, but he was so sure of it. I guess he was right, in the end."

Hermione's eyes started to sting again, but she bit back the tears. Enough crying for one night.

"We really should go back, now," she said, "before the others wake up."

Blaise nodded. "Let's go, then."

They removed the Death Eater cloaks, and Blaise shrunk them and placed them in an inner pocket of his robes. Then they Apparated back to Grimmauld Place.

"Get some rest, Hermione."

"You too."

She watched Blaise walk up the stairs silently from the landing. When he disappeared from sight, she went into her own room. She changed back into her nightgown and slipped into bed beside Luna.

What a strange night.

That dream… had she been in Blaise's head? That would explain why she hadn't known the spells that were being fired from "her" wand. What exactly had that binding magic done to them? Could she go into his head at any time? If she could, did that mean he could enter her mind as well? The possibility worried her.

Hermione decided not to bring it up with him just yet—he most likely still wasn't aware of the connection. If they really could enter each others' minds, she didn't want to alert him to it. She needed time to figure out what binding magic Bellatrix had used to connect them. If only they were at Hogwarts… she was sure that the answers would be in the library somewhere.

Sighing, she tried to clear her mind. If she drifted off quickly, she could probably still get in an hour of rest, and after all that had happened that night, sleep was just what the doctor ordered.

But she couldn't seem to shake one chilling train of thought from her head.

She'd killed before—she'd killed Death Eaters at the Battle of Hogwarts. And while it had scared her, it had been justified. Those deaths were necessary—more than necessary. Killing those Death Eaters saved other people's lives. Caught in the middle of a war, she'd been a soldier.

Tonight…

She felt a pang in her chest, but her eyes were dry.

Tonight, she had become a murderer.

* * *

**Author's Note: **So, how do you guys feel about this chapter? Good, bad? Please let me know in a review! It will make me happy to hear what you guys have to say, whether it's good or bad.


	8. VII Blaise's Tale

**Author's Note:** This chapter is a bit longer than the previous ones, but I didn't want to cut it into two. Hope you don't mind!

**VII. Blaise's Tale**

The next morning—only about half an hour after she finally drifted off the sleep, Hermione was shaken awake by Luna, who told her that Lupin had returned and was talking to Blaise alone, in the upstairs drawing room. Hermione thanked her, got dressed, and then headed upstairs to join them. When she knocked on the door, Lupin opened it.

"Oh, Hermione. I'll want to talk to you in a minute. Do you mind waiting?"

"I—all right, sure," said Hermione.

The door closed, and she took a step back to lean against the opposite wall of the hallway.

A few minutes later, Blaise opened the door. Hermione was surprised to see that the left side of his head appeared unblemished. He gave her a small smile before exiting the room and heading downstairs.

Hermione stepped inside.

"How are you doing?" Lupin asked, smiling warmly.

"I'm fine, thanks," she replied. She closed the door behind her. "How was your trip?"

Lupin sighed. "It went about as well as I thought it would. I didn't think there was a big chance that my contacts would support us directly. I found a perfect hiding place for Ollivander, though. I'm sure Voldemort will want to verify that his wand is really the Elder Wand, and since he's already killed Gregorovitch…"

"The only other choice is Ollivander," said Hermione.

"Precisely. Well, we won't let Voldemort get to him."

"What's next, then?"

"Next I'll be returning to the Underground, to see what the wolves have heard."

Hermione nodded. Then she asked, "Do you trust Zabini?"

"I think I do. If I remember correctly, he was a good student, even if he was always with Malfoy."

"Yes, he was."

"Do _you_ trust him?"

"I suppose so."

"He spoke very highly of you," said Lupin. "I wasn't sure how sincere it was—I thought he would have been more… bitter at the thought that it was a Muggle-born who saved him."

"He told me that he was tortured when they had him in the dungeons. Said that there was… nothing quite like it. Nothing that hurt so much."

"Did they torture you too, that night?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry, Hermione."

"I chose to go—you told me not to. You have nothing to be sorry about."

"That's not why I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you have to shoulder such a burden when you should be enjoying your youth."

Hermione smiled grimly. "It was my luck to be born at a time like this."

"If you ever need to talk, I'm here to listen. I know that you'll start to feel like you can't trust anyone. Spending too much time on either side will make you feel like everyone suspects you. Maybe you're already feeling it."

Hermione shook her head. "I'll be fine. I can't really talk, anyway. I told Harry and Ron the same thing the other day—I don't want Voldemort to find evidence that I'm telling the Order anything."

Lupin nodded. "As long as you know that you have friends here who will listen."

"Thanks."

They fell silent, and Hermione looked at the ground.

"There is one thing that I find suspicious about Zabini's story," Lupin said.

"What is it?" asked Hermione.

"It's hard for me to believe that a house elf would release a prisoner without getting permission from his masters first. Even if he thought it was a mistake, I'm sure he would have asked first."

"Then… do you think it's possible that Voldemort let him out on purpose to spy on us?"

"If Voldemort did send him, it's more likely that he's here to spy on you exclusively, as a test of your loyalty."

Hermione bit her lip. "Do any of the other professors know Legilimency?"

"Flitwick does," said Lupin. "But he says he gave it up early on."

"Well, if Blaise isn't an Occlumens, any Legilimens should be able to see right into his mind."

Lupin nodded his agreement. "Well, Flitwick should be back within a day's time. I'll wait until he returns before leaving."

"All right."

"Now, let's go downstairs. I want to talk to the others."

They made their way downstairs to the kitchen, where everyone spent most of their time. George was reading the Daily Prophet. Ginny and Luna were stirring the two large cauldrons that Hermione had brought back from Diagon Alley. Harry was standing beside Ginny. Terry and Michael were playing wizard's chess, and Ron and Neville were watching interestedly.

George looked up as they entered and said, "Oi, Lupin. Look at this bit of rubbish they've printed."

He held out the paper.

"I already saw it," said Lupin. "The Ministry is trying to catch Savage for a series of murders committed last night."

Everyone stopped what they were doing to look over at Lupin.

"But… but Savage is one of the only good Aurors left, isn't he?" said Harry.

Lupin nodded tiredly. "Unfortunately, he doesn't trust us. Otherwise, we could help him."

"Lupin… did you read the list of couples that they say he polished off?" asked George.

Now all eyes were on George; the cauldrons were abandoned, wizard's chess forgotten.

"Yes, I did," said Lupin heavily. After a pause, he said, "Go ahead and read off the names."

George took a deep breath. "Jordan. Spinnet. Bell…" he glanced up at the Ravenclaws and said, "Corner."

Michael stiffened, his face a mask. Terry's face blanched.

George continued, "…Davies. Finnegan. Abbott. Finch-Fletchley. Creevey. Patil."

He stopped, and Terry's relief was evident on his face. All other faces showed some variation of shock, horror, and sorrow.

"They're all… parents of Hogwarts students," said Harry slowly.

Hermione felt a wave a sickness come over her. Were those the people she'd been murdering the night before? Blaise had refused to tell her who they were—was this the reason why? Despite the rapid hammering in her chest, her voice was steady when she spoke.

"I think Voldemort is punishing students who refuse to join him."

"Did you—did you know they were planning this?" Michael asked, turning to look at her.

"Of course not. I would have said something if I knew that something this big was about to happen—so many families…" Hermione let her voice fade and looked down at the floor.

"Where's Zabini?" Ron asked all of a sudden.

Hermione frowned and looked around the room. She hadn't noticed his absence when she entered the room. He couldn't have left Grimmauld Place, not without her permission—she'd explicitly forbidden him from leaving the house without her. But then… he'd said that with Voldemort's permission, he was allowed to disobey her. What kind of binding magic worked like that?

"Odd," said Lupin. "I thought he'd be down here. Neville, go up to check your room."

"I'll go up with him," Harry volunteered, pulling out his wand.

They left the room together.

"The potions," Hermione remembered. "Stir."

Ginny and Luna both jumped, startled, and hurriedly started stirring. At this stage, the cauldrons only contained water and lacewing flies, which needed to be stewed for twenty-one days. Overnight, the flies settled to the bottom of the cauldrons, but during the day, they had to be kept from clumping for the potion to have the best effect.

"Lupin, is Zabini going to be staying here?" asked Ginny.

Lupin nodded.

Ginny didn't attempt to hide her disappointment. "But why?"

"Look, Ginny," said Terry, cutting Lupin off. "We don't like the guy either. But we're in a war, and we need all the help we can get. And Zabini's more than talented with a wand."

"Thank you, Terry," said Lupin.

Ginny just groaned.

Hermione, meanwhile, had been looking at Michael. She wondered whether or not she might have killed one of his parents. The thought made bile rise in her throat. He was staring vacantly at the chessboard, and she fervently hoped that she wasn't the reason for that look on his face.

"Michael, are you all right?" she asked softly.

"Oi, Michael," said Terry. "Are you still in there somewhere?"

Michael stood up suddenly, startling everyone. "I'm going to lie down a bit."

They let him leave in silence.

Before the door had closed behind him, Harry and Neville returned with Blaise, who grumpily sat down at the table.

"I just fell asleep," he grumbled.

"As if you didn't get enough sleep last night," said Neville. "You went to bed very early."

Blaise just shook his head, yawning.

"Zabini, what did they say to you while you were locked up?" Harry asked.

"Not much. Same old prattle about joining the Dark Lord."

"What did you say?" asked Harry.

Blaise looked at the Boy Who Lived like he was an idiot. "Obviously, I said no. If you hadn't noticed, I've been sitting around in this miserable place taking orders from a Muggle-born for the past few days."

"Don't snap at Harry, you bastard," said Ginny.

"What're you going to do about it?"

Ginny lunged toward him but was caught by Harry and Luna.

_Stop provoking her_, said Hermione. Blaise glanced at her briefly before looking away again.

George passed him the Daily Prophet. "Did you see any of the students from those families in the cells at the Malfoy Manor?" he asked.

Blaise perused the list. "Yeah. Seamus Finnegan was in the cell next to me. I'd recognize that accent any day."

"Anyone else?" asked Lupin.

"Roger Davies was dragged past my cell. I think he was still alive, just unconscious. I didn't look too closely. Didn't make for very pleasant thoughts. I think Lavender Brown was in the cell on my other side. That is, until they took her out—she never came back. Her name isn't on this list, though."

As the others pondered what that could mean, Blaise's eyes traveled up the paper, and he began to read the article that the names came from.

With a perfect expression of shock and disgust, he said, "These families were all killed off?"

"Just the parents. Their children were either left untouched in the house, or they were missing," said Lupin. When the others in the room looked at him questioningly, Lupin explained, "I sent Mundungus out to investigate as soon as I read the news this morning, and he got back to me very quickly."

"Mundungus—he's still alive?" said Hermione.

"Too cowardly to even show his face at the battle at Hogwarts, I expect," said Harry.

"Brown," Blaise said suddenly, "I think she joined them."

There was a moment of silence, but the gears in Hermione's head were turning. Startling as it seemed, that explanation made perfect sense…

"_What?_" Neville exclaimed.

"No, don't you dare—" began Ron.

Blaise and Ron drew their wands simultaneously.

"Stop it," said Harry.

"Wands away, both of you," Lupin said authoritatively.

Ron looked at Lupin angrily and stowed his wand away in his robes. Blaise tucked his back in his robes and sat back down, calm.

"I suppose it makes sense," said Harry quietly, and Hermione was glad to see that she wasn't the only one who'd followed Blaise's reasoning. From the looks of it, Lupin also understood.

"But… how?" asked Neville.

"Well," said Hermione, "Zabini only saw Lavender get _taken away_. That doesn't mean she was killed. And since her family wasn't on that list, maybe it means that she gave in, so Voldemort spared her family, at least last night."

"But then according to that logic, wouldn't Zabini's parents be dead already?" Terry asked.

Blaise glared at him. "How do you know they aren't?"

Terry stared at him, and Hermione realized that it was the first time she'd seen such a dumbstruck look on that Ravenclaw's face.

"It's okay, Blaise—" said Lupin, trying to ease the tension in the room.

Blaise shook his head. "No, it's not okay. I don't like being singled out here. There were a ton of other students locked up there. I don't know who they were, but I can swear to you that not all of them are Death Eaters, and this list here doesn't even cover half of them. Just because I'm a pure-blood Slytherin doesn't mean I want to be a Death Eater."

_Calm down_, Hermione urged him mentally.

Blaise's voice sounded in her head. _I know what I'm doing._

She hid her surprise. She hadn't realized that the mental connection between them went both ways. Did that mean he already knew? Did he know that she might've been inside his head during his duel with Savage?

"Zabini, it's okay. We trust you now. Lupin already told us what he thought," said Harry.

Blaise just shook his head again. "No. No, you don't trust me. You say you do, but when it comes down to it, you wouldn't trust me with your life, would you?"

Silence.

"That's what I thought."

He sighed.

"I guess being honest from the start could have helped me out a bit. Well, here's the truth. A long while before the battle at Hogwarts, Lucius Malfoy was given the order to convince me to join the Death Eaters. When I kept avoiding it, he decided to lock me up in the Manor. When I still said I wouldn't join, he tortured me. After that, he threatened to kill my family. A few nights in a row, he came to me to tell me that he'd killed my mother already. I refused to believe him. I thought I knew he was bluffing."

Tears rose, seemingly unbidden, to his eyes, but he continued.

"Then one night, he showed up with a Pensieve. Told me to look inside."

Here, his voice choked up, and Hermione realized that she was holding her breath in anticipation for what he would say next. If he wasn't telling the truth, then Blaise Zabini deserved to win an Oscar for this performance.

"What I saw in there… the things he did to my mum…" he said, his voice wavering as tears threatened to spill from his eyes, "…I would rather be tortured to insanity, or _death_, than be forced to watch that ever again."

More silence.

Blaise took a few deep breaths to compose himself and furiously blinked away his tears. When he spoke again, he had gained control over his voice. "So when you high and mighty Order of the Phoenix members come to me and accuse me of taking orders from the man who ordered the most painful death for my mother…"

He let the sentence remain unfinished. His eyes were blazing, and no one in the room could look away. Hermione _had_ to know whether or not he was telling the truth. If so, how _could_ he still take orders?

"As for how I escaped, I confess that I lied. The house elf who set me free—he was following his master's orders. It was just a different master. On the day of the battle at Hogwarts, Draco gave his house elf one task. If he didn't return with the other Death Eaters that night, the elf was to open the door to my cell and pretend he thought his masters had made a mistake. So when Draco didn't come home, I was set free."

Hermione looked into those dark brown eyes and wondered. Such a compelling tale. How could it all be a lie?

"There. Now the whole truth is out. No more lies."

Finally, Terry spoke up. "I'm sorry. I can't even begin to imagine—"

"No, you can't," said Blaise.

"The potion, Ginny," said Lupin gently.

Luna had been stirring without thinking as she watched Blaise tell his story, but Ginny had stopped, staring at Blaise instead. Hermione stood and took the large spoon from her. Ginny moved to sit next to George, who was looking at the stone floor.

"I'm… tired," said Blaise quietly. "I'll go back up to sleep, if there's nothing else."

"Go ahead. Rest," said Lupin.

Blaise left the room, leaving behind a heavy silence in his wake.

Then Ron said, "I can't believe Zabini almost cried."

"Very mature, Ron," said Hermione.

"Well, our mum and brothers just… and we aren't crying," said Ron.

"You weren't forced to watch them get tortured, though," Terry pointed out. "I've heard some really nasty stories about how Malfoy Sr. tortured his victims."

"I wish Dad would come back," said Ginny. "I'm scared for him, now."

Lupin gave her a small smile. "Don't worry. Your dad knows what he's doing."

George put an arm around his little sister. "We're not gonna die. We all have to live two or three times as long to make up for all the time that the others are missing out on."

This made Ginny laugh a little.

"I'm depressed," said Neville. "I can't wait to get out of this house." He looked up at Lupin hopefully.

"I'll be leaving shortly, but I can't take you," said Lupin. "I was going to wait until Flitwick returned, but I don't think I have to anymore."

He glanced at Hermione, who nodded.

"Ron—take over for Michael, yeah?" said Terry, turning his attention back to the chess game.

"Sure," said Ron. He took Michael's seat across from Terry.

"Are any of you hungry?" Lupin asked.

"Now that you mention it, I'm starving," said George.

"I'll put something together before I leave, then," said Lupin. "Harry, come give me a hand."

"Er… right," said Harry.

Hermione knew that Harry was lousy at cooking spells, so as Harry and Lupin moved to the other end of the kitchen, she wondered what they would talk about.

Ron and Terry started getting more worked up over the game, and Neville and Ginny both turned their attention to the chessboard; it was easier to escape reality that way, Hermione supposed. She watched Harry and Lupin conversing quietly, and her stomach churned uneasily.

"Hermione, you look distracted. Is everything all right?" asked George.

Hermione nodded. "Yes. I'm just… shocked."

And it was the truth. She was shocked by all the people she'd killed. Sure, Blaise had killed maybe three quarters of them, but still. He'd told her not to count, but she'd been unable to stop herself. She'd killed six innocent people, parents of her fellow classmates. Two mothers and four fathers.

George's voice pulled her back out of her thoughts. "All right, then."

"On second thought," she said, "I think I want to lie down for a bit upstairs. Do you mind…?"

"No, of course not," said George, getting to his feet and taking the spoon from her.

"Thanks," said Hermione. She headed for the door.

"Should we call you for lunch?" asked Luna.

"No, it's okay. I'll make myself something later, when I get hungry."

Then Hermione walked out of the kitchen, closing the door behind her. She started going up the stairs, and as she reached her landing, she paused. She really needed to talk to Blaise, to ask him to confirm all the things that she'd heard and help settle her mind. And she needed to know how much he knew about the binding magic.

She swung open the door to her room and jumped. He was sitting on her bed.

"You—"

"You wanted to talk?" he said.

Hermione spun around to close the door and murmured, "Muffliato." Then she turned back to face him. "You… you can't read my thoughts, can you?"

"No, but I feel your emotions. Have you felt it too?"

Hermione nodded. Aside from the strange dream and the pain in the side of her head, she remembered the day that she'd brought Blaise back to Grimmauld Place, when he'd gotten a beating from George. She recalled that strange surge of panic and knew now that it must have been what Blaise was feeling.

"Wonder what kind of magic they used on us," said Blaise.

Hermione sighed. "If we were at Hogwarts, we could just look it up in the library."

Blaise laughed. "Typical."

Hermione just sighed again, and his laugh faded. He patted the spot next to him on the bed, and she sat down.

"I know what you're feeling—literally. You don't know if it's worth all this, do you?" said Blaise.

"No, that's not it. I just… I can't believe I've killed six innocent people. They never killed anyone. I can justify killing Death Eaters, but—"

"Well technically, some of them at the battle of Hogwarts were under the Imperius Curse. So you could have killed some innocent people there, too."

Hermione glared at him. "Great. Thanks."

"Look, what I'm trying to say is, innocent people are going to die in this war. Not everyone is fighting for what they truly want. Do you really think there are _that_ many evil people out there, enough for the Dark Lord to make an army of willing followers like that? Tons of people joined out of fear—don't you remember that miserable man—what was his name—Pettigrew?"

Ah, Pettigrew. She remembered Wormtail very well.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, I remember." She looked at Blaise. "You said that not everyone is fighting for what they want. What do _you_ want?"

He looked at her for a while, his expression unreadable. Then he looked away, shaking his head.

"What do you want?" she repeated.

"I just want it all to be over."

Hermione gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "What you told everyone in the kitchen, about what Lucius did to you, and your mother… was it really the truth?"

"What's the use? Would you believe me if I said it was?"

"Yes, I would."

He looked at her. "Why?"

"Because I'm trying to make up for being so… so narrow-minded. I always just… assumed that you and other Slytherins would choose joining Voldemort over losing your family. It was all that damn House prejudice. I should have known better, too, given my history with Draco."

"Well, those House prejudices went both ways. I assumed loads of things about you Gryffindors. Of course, most of them turned out to be _true_, but—"

Hermione gave him a playful punch on the shoulder, and he smiled. She noted that the smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Blaise, just tell me. Was it the truth?"

His gaze dropped to the ground again. "Yes."

"But… how?"

"How what?"

"How can you still…"

"…take orders from the Dark Lord?" Blaise finished her question for her.

Hermione nodded.

"I'm not the only one left in my family, Hermione. I… after I saw what Draco's dad did to my mum… I couldn't take it anymore. I tried to claw his eyes out that night. I didn't care that I hadn't eaten in days and didn't have any strength left. I didn't care that I was wandless. I wanted to die, and I wanted to take him with me."

The venom in his voice was apparent, and Hermione was intimidated, even though his fury was in no way directed at her.

"I thought he would kill me for trying to attack him, but he just put the shackles back on and left with that damn Pensieve of his. The last thing he told me… he said that my sister would be next, and that I had a day to think about it."

"Oh, god," Hermione whispered.

"Draco sneaked down to visit me the next morning. I tried to attack him, too. I was just so angry. But he talked some sense into me. Said that as long as I joined the Dark side and stayed alive, I'd have a chance to get back at everyone for what happened to my mom. And I'd save my sister. That night when his dad came to see me, I told him I'd do it."

"Why don't you have the Dark Mark, then?"

"The Dark Lord isn't stupid. He knew that I hated him for giving Draco's dad the go-ahead to kill my mum. So now, sick bastard that he is, he's making me _prove my loyalty_ to him. I have to _earn my right_ to have that… godforsaken Mark branded into my skin."

"I'm so sorry," said Hermione. Then she frowned. "But… the Dark Lord would see…"

"Oh come now, Hermione. Draco started teaching you Occlumency sometime in the middle of sixth year, right? He started teaching me as soon as we got back to Hogwarts that year. It was like he foresaw that I'd need it. And we had a lot more time together to practice. I'm solid. No one can weasel their way into my head without my say-so."

"But Voldemort… he's one of the best Legilimens in the world, isn't he?"

"Sure, but Draco's aunt Bellatrix is on par with him as far as Legilimency goes. And she was the one who trained Draco as an Occlumens _and_ a Legilimens. And he trained us. You didn't have so much time. Otherwise I'm sure you'd be as good as I am, at least."

Hermione smiled grimly. "I wish Draco were still here."

"You and me both. He was a brother to me."

After a moment, Hermione asked, "Do we have any more instructions from Voldemort? Do you think he's satisfied with what… with last night?"

"We couldn't get to the Boots, which will be disappointing to him, but it's all right. He's probably more angry that we let the kids live, but I think we'll be fine. I'm almost sure all we have to do right now is lay low. If I hear anything from him, I'll let you know first thing. Can you do the same for me?"

Hermione nodded.

"Great. I'll go upstairs and catch up on some sleep. You should too."

"Wait, Blaise. We still have to talk."

"About?"

"The binding magic—I don't think it's as simple as us sharing emotions."

"Sure," said Blaise. "You can control my actions. Of course it's not that simple."

"Be honest with me. Do you have any idea what kind of magic they used?"

"No idea at all."

Hermione sighed. "When I was Stunned by Savage…" she stopped herself.

"What?" Blaise prompted when she stopped.

"Last night, I think I was inside your head."

"That's… odd. Why do you think that?" he asked.

"I had a dream while I was Stunned, and it was a fight between me and some guy I didn't recognize—I'm guessing it was Savage. I think… I think in the dream I thought I was you."

Blaise looked intrigued. "What did you see? What did you _feel?_"

"I… it's a little hard to remember. Just… well, I remember being pissed when he was thrown out the window, because I wouldn't be able to… to finish him off."

"Yeah, that definitely ran through my head."

Hermione frowned.

"Why are you so worried?" he asked her.

"I don't like this, Blaise. We don't know anything about what Bellatrix did to us. I mean, do you _like_ me watching your thoughts like that?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I guess it just doesn't matter that much to me anymore. Do you have any control over it? I mean, could you try to get into my head right now?"

"I don't know."

"Well, try it."

Hermione turned to her head and met his eyes. Unable to focus with him staring back at her, she closed her eyes and thought his name. She felt anticipation, fatigue, and a slight headache, but she didn't have any thoughts that weren't her own.

"I don't know how," she said, opening her eyes.

"Hmm. But…" His lips stopped moving, but she heard his voice in her head anyway. _…you can still hear me, can't you?_

Hermione nodded. _Yes._

_Bloody hell._

"So what does this mean?" Hermione asked.

"You're the genius, not me," said Blaise.

Hermione shook her head. "I have no idea what it could be."

"Well, it's not all bad. I mean, it's already come in handy, being able to talk without anyone else hearing us. And since we can sense each other's emotions, I'll know when you get into trouble, and you'll know if I'm in a sticky spot."

"There can't be a binding spell that's all good."

Blaise smiled. "Of course it's not all good. I have to take your orders."

Hermione just shook her head.

"Stop worrying, please. You need to get some more sleep. An hour isn't enough. And I've gotta catch up on sleep too. I feel just about dead."

"No, you don't."

"Oh, a little white lie now and then never hurt anybody. Don't call me out like that, it's no fun."

Hermione allowed herself a small smile. "All right, go upstairs and sleep. We'll have time to discuss this later."

"Yeah, all right. See you later."

Blaise got up and went to the door. As he started walking out, he turned back to smile at her. She smiled back, and then he was gone, closing the door behind him.

A new wave of guilt washed over her.

It was as if she felt that her actions could be justified when Blaise was around, but once he left and she was all alone, she held herself accountable for all that she'd done. She couldn't erase the faces of the people she'd murdered the night before.

Whose parents had she killed? How could Blaise stay so calm, knowing that he'd murdered the parents of so many of his classmates? Was he really that motivated? But of course he was—he was in this not just to get revenge, but to save his sister's life as well. She couldn't know for sure what Blaise had seen in that Pensieve, but she'd also heard about the types of things that Draco's dad had done…

"_Stop—" Hermione held Draco's hands down away from her, calming her breathing. "I think I heard something," she whispered._

_Draco smirked. "Nonsense. Who else would be out so late at night?"_

_He lowered his lips to hers again, and she released his hands to push him away. Bad idea. His hands wrapped around her, pulling her tight against his chest, and the feeling of his hot skin against hers was enough to make her lightheaded. She gasped as quietly as she could when he trailed kisses along her jaw to her ear._

_Then they heard a voice outside._

"_Honestly, I don't see why we couldn't talk about this in the common room. Or in our own room, for that matter. You know, like normal people who want to gossip?"_

_Hermione froze but Draco's teeth tugged lightly on her earlobe, and she bit her lip to stop herself from moaning. She felt Draco's silent laughter against her ear and gave him a hard punch in the stomach._

"_Not funny," she hissed._

"_Oh, this isn't just any gossip. I mean, you ask about something like this, and it's impossible to talk about it anywhere where anyone could _possibly_ overhear us."_

"_All right, all right. Spit it out, then."_

_Draco's removed her bra, and she shoved at his chest. He captured her hands and slid down to lap at one of her breasts. She had to repress another moan, arching her back up against him._

"_What exactly do you want to know?"_

"_Well… what happened to that one reporter who said bad things about… you know, his family?"_

"_Oh ho, you chose a juicy one."_

"_Oh god, am I going to want to hear this?"_

_Draco was suckling her other breast now, and she drew a sharp breath. Thankfully, the two girls outside seemed too engrossed in their own conversation._

"_First of all, he restrained her and waited for her husband to get home, and then he Stunned her husband and killed him really slowly. Like, with a knife."_

_Shocked silence._

_Hermione was frightened. Who were they talking about? Then Draco's hands were between her legs. Her underwear was gone, and a finger thrust up inside her. Her hips bucked against him reflexively, and desire surged through her. His mouth quickly covered hers, stifling her moan._

"_He made her watch him bleed to death."_

"_Oh, please say that was it."_

"_Don't be silly. He hadn't even gotten started yet."_

"_I'm not sure I want to hear this anymore."_

"_Oh, I can't believe you're such a scaredy-cat. My goodness Millicent, I thought you were… well, gutsier than this."_

_Draco had inserted a second finger followed by a third, and was pumping in and out of Hermione, but even as her hips thrust up to meet his fingers, she couldn't stop listening to the conversation. How could he disregard the girls' conversation like that? His tongue twisted with hers, and her mind blanked._

"_Fine, tell me."_

"_Well, I hear he always started by prying off their fingernails and toenails. Oh, don't make that face at me. You look pathetic."_

"_How are you not disgusted by this?"_

"_Disgusted? What he does, it's art."_

_Draco twisted his hand a little so that he could rub his thumb against her little bundle of nerves in rhythm with each thrust of his fingers, and with two more thrusts, she came, her insides convulsing around him. Her cry of ecstasy was muffled by his mouth, but there was still some sound. Hermione found that she didn't care at that moment whether or not they got caught._

_But the two Slytherin girls outside seemed not to have heard her._

"_Merlin, don't say that Pansy, you're scaring me."_

"_Don't be such a baby. How do you ever expect to serve the Dark Lord if you can't handle just listening to this?"_

_Hermione hadn't come down from her high yet when Draco thrust his long, hard member into her. She almost cried out in surprise, but she bit down hard on her lip, drawing blood this time._

"_Oh, god," she whispered, that same ache for him flaring hot inside her even though she'd just peaked moments before._

"_Not god. Draco," he breathed by her ear between thrusts._

_Her hips thrust up to meet his, and they both struggled to stay quiet, locking their lips together to muffle each other._

"_After nails and feet, he went for her stomach, because she had let slip a lot of secrets. He said that she'd spilled her guts onto the paper, and he was going to do the same, only his version would be a lot more literal."_

"_That is just… sick."_

"_I have to admit that even for me, that'd be a bit hard to stomach."_

_Hermione was losing control. She was close, so, so close, and she didn't want him to stop, but she was almost positive that as soon as she came, she wouldn't be able to stop herself from screaming. She started to push at Draco's chest, but there was no stopping him. He pumped harder and faster, and her hips increased their rhythm to match his, pulling him in deeper each time._

_Then she was lost in ecstasy, clamping tightly around him as she climaxed. He came right after her, pumping a few more times as he emptied himself into her. She was surprised she hadn't screamed._

"_Holy fuck, Hermione," he whispered in her ear, collapsing on top of her._

_Hermione had missed some of the conversation outside when she was far away in outer space, but she soon became aware that the two girls were still talking._

"_And she was somehow still alive… after all of this?"_

"_He knows a spell that can do that."_

"_It's impossible! She would have bled out by then."_

"_It takes a long time to bleed out if your major arteries aren't severed."_

_Draco rolled off her to lie on his back, and she shifted onto her side, using his shoulder as a pillow. She stroked his chest with her fingertips, still catching her breath._

"_Well, please tell me that's it."_

"_You were the one who said you wanted _all_ the details."_

"_So there's more? God, after nails, feet, guts, arms, legs… there really can't be much else left, can there? I'd be delirious!"_

"_Another spell takes care of that," said Parkinson._

_Draco shifted to pull Hermione closer to him. "Don't listen to them," he whispered._

"_I think it's too late for that," Hermione whispered back._

"_What did he do next, then?" Bulstrode asked._

"_He started slicing into her cheeks. Oh, and I forgot to mention. He usually conjures up a mirror, so that they can see themselves while he's at work. I think she already had a mirror in the living room, so he didn't even have to go to that trouble."_

"_I can't believe your parents told you this."_

"_Oh no, I didn't. My dad was telling my mum one night, and I overheard. I guess my dad was there to see it. He offered to help, but Mr. Malfoy insisted that he work alone."_

_Hermione didn't hear anything after the word, "Malfoy," came out of Parkinson's mouth. She froze, and beside her, Draco stiffened. She took a deep breath, wanting to scream at him, but she couldn't yet, not while Parkinson and Bulstrode were still standing in the classroom outside._

_Instead, she tried to push away from him. He rolled over, trapping her body with his so that she couldn't escape. She looked up to see his silver eyes inches away from hers, speaking volumes. She shut her eyes. She didn't want to be talked out of this. This monster Parkinson and Bulstrode had been talking about was _his _father? She should have expected it._

_It felt like years before they heard Bulstrode complaining about the cold and how she wanted to go back to the Slytherin Dungeon to go to bed. Parkinson followed her out of the room, still ranting about how much of a whiny little nobody Bulstrode was being._

_When they heard the classroom door close with a snap, Hermione shoved at Draco's chest._

"_Get off me," she said evenly._

"_Hermione, please. It's my father, not me. I've never—"_

"_Get off me, now."_

_Draco seemed to sense how angry she was, but he didn't waver. "No."_

_Hermione started to push away at him again, but he just collapsed on top of her, pinning her hands between their stomachs. She yanked them out and sunk her nails into his shoulders, clawing her way down his arms. He gritted his teeth and didn't make a sound._

"_Get off!"_

_He glared at her and lowered his head to cover her mouth with his. She turned her face away, and he let his lips wander up and down her neck instead._

"_You're not just going to kiss this away, Draco. It's not that easy. Now get off me!"_

_He stopped kissing her neck but still didn't get off her. "So is this it, then? Are you going to end this right now, because my father is a sick bastard?"_

_Hermione blinked. She couldn't see his face—it was hovering down by her collarbone, where he'd stopped his kissing._

"_Please get off me," she said._

"_Fine."_

_Draco rolled off her, and the sudden loss of his body heat made Hermione shiver. She sat up and lit her wand so she could find her clothing and get dressed. Draco was standing, and he'd already pulled on his boxers and pants and was in the process of putting his belt on. She'd never seen him get dressed so quickly._

"_Draco..."_

"_What?" he snapped._

"_I'm sorry. I was overreacting. I just…"_

"_Just what?"_

"_I wish you would tell me these things, so that I wouldn't have to hear them from _other_ people, like Pansy Parkinson."_

"_Well, I'm sorry that I'm not particularly proud of that part of my life."_

_He pushed open the door to the small storage room they'd been in and strode out into the now-empty classroom._

"_Draco, wait," said Hermione, getting up. She'd gotten her bra and panties on and was pulling on a pair of jeans._

_Draco turned around to face her. "Look, I thought you'd know what I was like by now. I thought you'd know that I'm not like my family. I'm not a blind follower. I don't want this—" he gestured between them "—to be over. But if you can't handle hearing something about my father that makes you sick, it's better if we just end it here."_

"_Well, how else do you expect this to end, Draco? We're not going to have a nice ending, happily ever after. You can't honestly have thought that."_

"_Yeah, well. I thought we'd have each other, at least. But you know what, I don't _need_ anyone. I was alone my whole life before I met you. I was doing fine back then, and I'll do fine from now on. Without you."_

_There was a pang in Hermione's chest as she watched him walk towards the door._

"_You don't mean that, do you?" she asked in a small voice._

_Why was she being so pathetic? It'd be better for both of them if she let him walk right through that door. It'd be better if they treated this like a long fantasy, something that never happened._

_He stopped with his hand on the doorknob. "I've already said that I don't want it to be over. What else do I have to say?" he said without turning around._

_Hermione ran to him and wrapped her arms around him from behind. "Don't go," she whispered._

_Pathetic. Weak. Useless. That's what she was._

_She'd somehow grown to rely on his presence. He made her feel safe, even as he exploited his newfound "Inquisitorial Squad" powers to bully people. Somehow, she was reassured that it was all just an act, that the real Draco Malfoy was far from despicable. He'd gotten under her skin, and she couldn't shake him, couldn't force herself to be rid of him. Had she really fallen for him at last?_

_Wretched. Hopeless. Addicted. Addicted to a boy who probably didn't even really care about her._

_He turned around in her arms, and she looked up at him, staring at his eyes, hoping to find the answer she wanted. His eyes had softened a little, but they retained a bit of that hard edge to them._

"_Hermione," he began._

_She closed her eyes. She still loved the sound of her name coming out of his mouth._

_Draco continued, "Why do you keep me here?"_

_His lips touched her forehead, and she could breathe again, relieved. He wasn't leaving her. Oh, she was pathetic. But he wasn't leaving._

"_I don't know," she said quietly._

_She leaned into him, lifting herself up a little to kiss his lips. He kissed her back and then pulled away, but he put his arms around her and gently stroked up and down her mostly bare back._

"_Tomorrow, I have a patrol along the hallway to the Room of Requirement at a very inconvenient time, for you. Tell Harry to change the date of the DA meeting."_

"_What?"_

"_Tell Harry to—"_

"_How can you possibly know about…?"_

_Draco smirked. "I have my ways. I can know anything I want to know."_

"_Honestly, Draco, how?"_

_He shook his head. "A magician never reveals his secrets. Just make sure you change the date. It's going to be awkward if I have to catch you and take you to Umbridge."_

_Hermione sighed, relenting. "Fine. I'll force you to tell me another day."_

"_You wish," said Draco, leaning down to kiss her again. "We should go, before Filch or Peeves stumbles across us."_

"_Okay. Just… Draco, I want you to promise me something."_

_Draco nodded._

"_Please… don't become a Death Eater like your dad. You said that you're not a blind follower, and I believe you, but you still have to show me. I'm not someone who can just have blind faith in someone."_

"_I won't. I promise."_

_Hermione smiled. "Good night."_

"_Good night."_

_Draco released her, and she let her arms fall away from him. He opened the door and disappeared into the darkness outside. She went back into the small storage closet to find her shirt and robes, and then she left as well._

_That night, she couldn't sleep. Her imagination was running wild with the terrible torture techniques she'd heard about from Parkinson and Bulstrode. It wasn't Draco's fault, but she wished that he had a different father…_

She shook herself from her reverie. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to be forced to watch her mother suffer in any way similar to the one that Parkinson had been describing to Bulstrode that night. And she had a feeling that Draco's father wouldn't have gone easier on Blaise's mother.

Too much… there was too much for her to process all at once. She thought her head would explode.

She'd realized that she did trust Blaise, most likely because he'd been Draco's closest friend. He'd also saved her life, and he'd said that Draco made him promise to take care of her. Sure, he was the one who'd stood behind her, forcing her to kill that first man last night. But she had had to do it. She was the one who had chosen this role, and she would have to keep it up until she'd reached her goal.

She still had a long way to go, and the only thing she could do, for the time being, was rest and wait for instructions.

She finally fell asleep, drifting off into a montage of images revolving around Draco.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Whew! That was long. Well, as usual, review! Pretty pretty please?


	9. VIII Permanent

**Author's Note:** I'm probably going to post the next chapter very soon, because the two of them sort of come together. Read and review! :)

**VIII. Permanent**

Hermione sat down at the dinner table next to Blaise.

She'd been sent to watch the Muggle world entrance to the Ministry of Magic a few times, and Blaise had accompanied her each time, except the first, when she'd gone with Harry. They were to keep track of people who used that entrance every day, the times that they came, and take note of people who showed up at the exact same time regularly.

All of the students took shifts in pairs. It'd been about two weeks, and they'd compiled a nice schedule of the comings and goings of all Ministry workers who used the Muggle entrance. The Polyjuice Potion still needed about a week and a half, so everyone was growing restless again. They'd been out of the house to watch the entrance, but it was a boring job, and they wanted to get some action—the adults coming and going never really told them much.

Blaise stepped on Hermione's foot under the table, and she shook her head slightly, gently blowing on a spoonful of steaming hot stew.

_Don't piss me off, Blaise._

_Aw, have a sense of humor. I'm bored._

The mental connection between Hermione and Blaise had strengthened the more they used it, and it had become normal for them to have a conversation without speaking a word.

_I'm not in the mood_, she replied.

_Fine. Be boring._

Hermione suddenly felt a burn on her left arm and hid her surprise.

_What?_ Blaise asked. He'd become so attuned to her emotions that she couldn't seem to hide anything from him, and Occlumency didn't work here. _What's wrong?_

_The Dark Mark._

She looked up at the faces around the table. It was quiet, today. Michael and Terry were gone; it was their turn to watch the Ministry entrance. None of the adults were there at the moment, either. Off to the side, two bewitched spoons were in the cauldrons, mixing the potion.

"When are Terry and Michael coming back?" she asked.

Harry looked at her. "I think in about ten minutes."

"I'll take over for them."

"But why?" asked Neville. "Luna and I were going to—"

"I just want to get out of this house."

"Yes, but don't we all?" said George.

"It's okay," said Harry. Hermione didn't like how his eyes had remained fixed on her. "Just let her go. Luna and Neville, you two can take my shift if you want."

"Oh come on, Harry, that's my shift too. You can't just give it up," said Ginny, shaking her head.

"Let's just do Hermione a favor," said Harry.

Ginny looked over at Hermione. "Ah fine. Only because I like you so much."

Hermione smiled. "Thanks, Ginny."

A few minutes later, she excused herself from the table and Blaise followed her out of the room. As the door was closing, she heard Ron's voice.

"I don't like how cozy those two have become."

Ugh, the annoying little git. All he ever did was complain.

"Yup. My thoughts exactly," said Blaise from beside her.

"You said you couldn't read my mind!"

"I didn't. You said it."

"I did not."

"Then you must have said it unintentionally, because I heard it."

"Oh, this is bad. We should stop using that connection to talk. What if it's like a tunnel, and we're widening it so much that soon we'll be able to see completely into each other's heads? I don't think I want to see what goes on up there," she said, tapping his head.

"Well, it's hard to talk without it, isn't it?"

Hermione had to agree with that. "Why aren't they back yet?" she said, fidgeting.

"Let me see your arm."

Hermione held out her left arm and pulled up her sleeve. The Mark was black, still burning her.

"Does it hurt?" asked Blaise.

"Can't you feel my emotions?"

"Well I guess your emotions aren't so affected by this," he said as Hermione pulled her arm away and covered the Mark with her sleeve.

Then the front door opened, and Terry entered.

"Hey. I thought Neville and Luna—"

"Yes, but I just had to escape from the house for a while," said Hermione as Michael entered the room.

"Oh. Well, there won't be much action now. It's that dead hour when almost no one comes out."

"The point isn't the job, it's getting away from here."

Terry nodded. "Yeah, all right. Have fun, you two." He headed for the kitchen with Michael.

Hermione and Blaise exited the house and shut the front door behind them. Then they Apparated to the small alley behind a Muggle pub that they'd been using to get near the Muggle entrance.

"How do you want to do this? Should I go back to the Manor with you?" Blaise asked.

"No—you stay here and keep doing what you're supposed to be doing. If I need you… you'll know."

Blaise nodded. As Hermione turned to Disapparate, he grabbed her wand arm, stopping her.

"Be careful, all right?"

She looked up, surprised by the concern emanating from him, and saw worry written all over his face. "I'll be fine."

Blaise nodded again, releasing her arm. With a small smile, she Disapparated.

She Apparated before the gates of the Manor and lifted her sleeve to show the Dark Mark on her arm. Then she strode right through the wrought-iron gates and rushed up toward the Manor, donning her cloak and mask. She pulled her hood up as she entered the Manor and was led by a house elf to a conference room.

There was a long table, surrounded by high-backed chairs. Voldemort was sitting at the head of the table. It was the first time she'd seen him since her induction into the Death Eaters. She realized that none of the members at the table were wearing their masks and reached up to remove hers.

"You're late," Voldemort hissed as she approached the table.

"I'm sorry, My Lord," she said, stowing her mask away.

There was only one available seat, between Bellatrix and Macnair. She moved toward it, but Voldemort lifted his hand, and she stopped in her tracks.

"Wait in the next room," he said.

She nodded and turned around, heading out the way she came. She shut the door behind her and looked around at the room—she hadn't paid any attention to it as she walked through earlier. It was a small chamber with a few chairs placed against the side walls. She sat down in one of them and waited.

Why had she been sent out? Maybe she was being punished for being late. She wondered how the distance would affect her mental connection to Blaise and closed her eyes.

_Can you hear me?_ she thought.

_Yes_.

He sounded very distant, but she could hear him.

_What's going on?_ Blaise asked.

_He's making me wait outside. Any idea why?_

_Well, you were late. But I think it has more to do with you needing to report to him privately. And the fact that he still doesn't trust you and wants you to stay out of the meetings._

_Hmm. Thanks, Blaise._

_Anytime._

She could sense that he was smiling.

_Hermione, just relax. You're all tense, and you're making me tense. I hate being worried. Keep it up, and we'll both get strokes before we turn eighteen._

_Don't tell me to relax. The Dark Lord is just next door._

_All right, fine. Make me deal with your issues, why don't you._

_Shut up._

There was no response, and Hermione sighed. It was too easy to forget that Blaise really did have to shut up whenever she said so.

_It's all right, you can talk_, she said.

_Maybe I don't want to anymore._

Hermione didn't reply and looked up at the ceiling instead. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of asking him to keep her company. But as much as she hated to admit it, having that voice in her head really had helped to calm her nerves.

Calming her nerves… she shivered with the memory of what Draco had done to help her relieve stress back at Hogwarts.

"_Don't you think you should take a break?"_

_Hermione didn't look up from her book. "I can't—I'm studying. What are you doing out of bed?"_

"_Patrolling, of course."_

"_Where's Zabini, then?"_

"_I told him he could go back to the room and study if he wanted. Said I could go finish off the rounds. He's worried."_

"_And you're not?"_

"_Tomorrow's only Potions. Nothing difficult about that. I don't see why you're so worried, Hermione. You know you'll score better than everyone else anyway, with or without studying."_

_Hermione shook her head and turned the page. "I get good scores because I _do_ study. I don't understand how you can be so relaxed."_

"_Hermione, will you please look at me?"_

"_Draco, stop bothering me. I still have another few chapters to go."_

"_And how many times have you read this book cover to cover already?"_

_It irked her how well he knew her. After reading the remaining two chapters, she would have finished the Potions book for the fourth time._

"_Shut up," she snapped._

"_Hey, hey, calm down. You're not going to be able to fall asleep if you stay this stressed."_

"_I wasn't going to go to sleep."_

"_Oh, come on, Hermione."_

_He snatched the book off the table._

"_Hey!" Hermione protested, jumping to her feet._

_Draco held the book over her head, out of her reach, and she glared at him._

"_Give it back."_

"_You really need to relax. Honestly, all this stress can't be good for you."_

_Hermione sighed and stopped her futile struggle to get the book from him by force. She folded her arms across her chest and fixed a steely glare on him._

"_I'm being very calm," she said._

_Draco smirked. "That's not calm. That's waiting for me to give up and leave you alone."_

"_Same thing."_

_He turned abruptly and started walking away._

"_Draco, give me back my book!"_

_He kept walking, and she sighed. He was going to make her chase after him, wasn't he? She waited three counts to see if he would stop walking, but as he reached the end of the shelf, he turned and kept heading toward the exit._

_Hermione sighed and jogged after him._

"_Oh, come on! I don't have time for this!"_

_She ran around the corner and crashed into something hard._

_His arms snaked around her, and his head swooped down so he could kiss her. She tried to resist opening up to his mouth, tried to turn her head away, but he wound his fingers into her hair, holding her head in place. His tongue brushed across her lips, and she longed to feel it stroking the inside of her mouth. She caved to that longing and pressed up against him, wrapping her arms around his neck._

_She could feel the smile on his lips as he shoved his tongue into her eagerly waiting mouth, and she tugged on the hair at the nape of his neck. Her whole body tingled as his hands ran down her clothed back. She slid her hands back over his shoulders and started unbuttoning his shirt._

_Draco hummed in satisfaction and backed her into a wall. She pushed the shirt over his shoulders, and he released her long enough to let it fall to the ground behind him. She trailed her hand up and down over his taut abs and leaned forward to kiss him again._

_His hand came up, and a finger covered her lips. She met his gaze and saw that he was about to speak, so she took his forefinger into her mouth, sucking gently. He opened his mouth, and instead of words, a groan tore from his throat. She sucked harder, and he pulled his finger back._

"_Stop that," he said, his voice tight._

"_You don't like losing control, do you?" said Hermione with a devilish grin._

_Draco smirked. "Like you could make me lose control."_

_She ground her hips against his and felt him harden._

"_Boy, you know I can."_

_She pulled her shirt off and discarded it to the side._

_He hissed. "Green tonight, eh? Did you know I was coming?"_

"_Maybe," said Hermione, smirking._

_It was a coincidence that she'd picked that bra, but he didn't have to know that. She took a step forward and slowly rubbed her hands up and down his back, feeling the muscles tense up under her fingertips. She looked up at his eyes to see that they were stormy and grey tonight. She opened her mouth slightly and let her tongue dart out to lick her lips seductively._

"_I've taught you well," Draco murmured huskily._

_Before she could respond, he shoved her backwards against the wall and pressed into her, clamping his mouth down over hers. She used the wall as leverage to wrap her legs around his waist, pulling him even closer. She gasped as she felt the bulge in his pants starting to press into her wetness; only a few layers of fabric lay between them. She twisted her fingers into his soft hair and moaned as his hands fondled her breasts through her bra. She arched her back against him, and he slid his hands downward, breaking contact with her skin as he unbuckled his belt._

_Hermione put her legs back down on the floor and started to remove her own skirt, but she stopped._

"_Draco—I heard—"_

_Draco hushed her with an urgent look and grabbed her hand, pulling her back past the table where she'd been working earlier. They ran silently between the shelves and into the Restricted Section._

"_Our clothes—" Hermione breathed._

_He just shook his head, and she fell silent. They heard the clack of hard shoes against the stone floor of the library, and a lamp was being carried between the shelves._

"_I heard you! I know you're in here," Filch croaked._

_Draco sighed with relief, and Hermione looked at him questioningly. He smiled and gave her a look that clearly told her to trust him. They heard Filch stumble._

"_Bloody book."_

"_You dropped it on the floor?" Hermione mouthed at him angrily._

_Draco smiled at her innocently, and she punched his arm. He shook his head at her and stepped out of the Restricted Section. Hermione reached out to grab him, but he was already out of her reach. If he wanted to get caught, she certainly wasn't going to be joining him._

"_Filch!" she heard him bark authoritatively._

"_M-Malfoy? What are you doing here?" asked Filch._

_Hermione's eyes widened. Why did he sound afraid? Filch had always been very nasty towards the students, and Draco was no exception. If her memory hadn't failed her, Filch had treated him with the same attitude starting first year, when he'd taken them down to their detention with Hagrid in the Forbidden Forest._

"_I was meeting a friend."_

"_It is against school rules to—"_

"_I know the rules, Filch, thank you. This is a… _special_ friend of mine, and I'm sure Umbridge would have no argument against bending the rules for us. If you don't trust me, you can go ahead and talk to her yourself. After all, rules are rules. Just don't blame me if I let it slip…"_

"_No, no, I believe you, and Professor Umbridge wouldn't want to be disturbed this late, I'm sure."_

"_Well, I'm glad you understand. If you and I don't say anything, then the rules don't matter so much, do they? Unless you would rather—"_

"_Of course not," said Filch. "I'll be off then, wouldn't want to take up your time."_

"_Yes, go on."_

_Hermione heard Filch's clicking footsteps slowly fade away and moved out of the Restricted Section. Draco appeared from behind a bookshelf and sauntered toward her, his lips stretched in a self-satisfied smirk._

"_All right, go ahead," said Hermione._

_He tilted his head minutely, maintaining the same expression and the same leisurely pace. "I don't know what you're talking about."_

"_Well, aren't you going to gloat about how influential you are, you arrogant twit?"_

_Draco shook his head, clicking his tongue a few times. "Arrogant I may be, but a twit, I most certainly am not."_

_Hermione smiled at him as he reached her side. "I'm sure we could fix that."_

_He arched an eyebrow. "Oh, really? And how would you go about turning me into a twit?"_

_She held his gaze while she placed her palms flat on his chest. Then she slowly trailed them down his torso, leaving a trail of goosebumps. Still staring into those pools of molten silver, she unbuttoned and unzipped his pants and let them drop to the ground. She winked playfully, then slid both her hands under his briefs and gripped his already waiting erection._

_He threw his head back and hissed, stiffening. She took a small step forward so she could kiss his neck. She started stroking him slowly, and he groaned._

_Hermione smiled. "Seems like Filch didn't ruin the mood, after all."_

_He inhaled deeply as she increased the speed of her strokes, wetting her fingers and his hard member with pre-cum. Then he pulled her hands out of his underwear and she looked up at him, confused. Had she done something wrong?_

_Draco kissed her, and her brain failed her again. She couldn't get enough of the taste of his tongue. She felt her nipples harden as they pressed against his bare chest, and she realized that her bra was gone. Then she was pressed against a bookshelf, and she was about to protest about how the shelves were made of wood and how she could get splinters when she felt her panties stripped from her. His thumb grazed her clit a few times, and she moaned._

_Damn it all. She didn't care if her back was covered with splinters when they were finished; she just wanted him to take her right there, and she kissed him so ferociously that he seemed to get the message._

_In one strong shove, he was sheathed inside her, and he swallowed her cry of pleasure. She gasped in pleasure on his second thrust._

"_Oh, Draco…"_

_She clutched his shoulders, throwing her head back in ecstasy as he picked up the pace._

_A few minutes later, she was lying on her back on the cold floor. Draco was bracing his weight above her, his eyes fixed on her adoringly. He'd never looked at her with that sparkle in his eye, and she wondered if it was just a trick of the light._

"_Are you cold?" he asked._

"_A little."_

_He slid his arms underneath her and rolled them over so that she was lying on top of him._

"_Better?"_

_Hermione smiled at how sweet he was acting._

"_Well, you didn't turn me into a twit," he said with a small grin._

_She tapped his nose with her index finger, scrunching her eyebrows together in mock thought. "I guess I misspoke. You can't be a twit. I would never have sex with a man who didn't have a properly functioning brain."_

_Draco laughed lightly, and she loved that familiar sound._

"_I believe you," he said._

_That same look in his eyes was still there, and she was almost afraid. Did he feel something for her beyond…?_

"_Are you okay, Hermione?" he asked._

_Hermione blinked. "Yes, I'm fine."_

_She rolled off him and looked around for her clothes. He sat up but didn't get to his feet. She'd put on her underwear and jeans and was looking around for her shirt when she remembered that they'd been making out near the entrance of the library. She went down the row of shelves and turned left to see both of their shirts, his belt, and her Potions book on the ground. She pulled her shirt on and then picked everything up._

_When she returned to the place where she'd been sitting, Draco was lounging in her chair, half-dressed. She put his belt and shirt down on the table._

"_Are you sure you're still going to keep studying?"_

_She sighed. Of course he'd know just by looking at her that she was about to open the book up again._

"_Yes, Draco."_

_He stood up and planted another kiss on her lips._

"_All right, then. It's your choice. I'll lay off distracting you."_

"_Good," said Hermione._

_Draco slung his shirt and belt over his shoulder and started walking out of the library._

"_You're welcome!" he called over his shoulder._

"_For what?"_

"_For relieving all that stress for you."_

_Hermione stared in his direction even after he'd turned the corner. Then she shook her head and sat down, opening the Potions book to the page she'd been on._

_Damn him, he was right. She was considerably more relaxed than before._

At long last, she had heard motion in the other room—chairs scraping across the floor. Then the door opened, and the Death Eaters started filing out. Hermione stood and waited for them all to pass through the chamber. Bellatrix appeared at the door to the conference room and gestured for her to enter. Hermione walked into the room, and Bellatrix closed it.

"Where is the boy?" Voldemort asked. He was standing a few feet from the table, facing the door.

"I… didn't know that you would want to see him," said Hermione.

"Summon him," said Voldemort.

Hermione nodded. _Blaise? He wants to see you._

_On my way._

"He's coming," said Hermione.

"Good."

Hermione didn't speak; she thought it'd be better to let him begin the conversations, since he was the one in power.

"Do you find the boy adequate?" Voldemort asked.

"Adequate?" Hermione repeated, blinking. What was that supposed to mean?

"Has he done your bidding?" Bellatrix rephrased her Lord's question.

"Yes, of course he has—I thought that that was what the binding magic was for."

Voldemort's thin lips curled into a smile, and the resulting sinister expression sent shivers down Hermione's back.

"Would you like to keep him?"

Hermione frowned. She didn't want to ask, but she felt she needed clarification.

"What do you mean, _keep_ him?"

"Lucius took my orders too far. I did not want the boy's mother to die because I knew he could never be loyal to me after that. But alas, it was too late. The boy hates me, and there is no way that I can trust him. But you, he is bound to you. If you wish it, the arrangement can become permanent."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think—"

"The Dark Lord was merely being courteous, Granger. Do not refuse a gift when it is offered," Bellatrix snapped.

Voldemort showed his teeth in that same sinister smile and Hermione had to look at the ground. He waved his wand, and a crystal goblet materialized. It floated to Hermione, and she looked at it. She glanced at Voldemort before taking the goblet. There was a silvery liquid inside, and she wondered what it was.

"Prick your finger and add one drop of blood," said Voldemort.

She pointed her wand at the goblet.

_Wingardium Leviosa._

Releasing the cup, which was now suspended in midair, Hermione made a small cut on her left forefinger. She squeezed a drop of blood into the silver potion, and it turned chocolate brown, the color of her eyes. She closed the cut and took the goblet in her hand again. Voldemort nodded in approval and turned away, walking slowly toward the table.

Then there was a knock at the door, and it swung open of its own accord. Wandless magic, no doubt.

Blaise entered and took a few steps into the room before kneeling.

"My Lord," he said, bowing his head.

"Stand," said Voldemort without turning around.

Blaise stood again and kept his eyes on the floor. Hermione was surprised by how devoted he looked, but she didn't let it show on her face.

"Drink the potion that your master is holding."

Master? Hermione blinked a few times, but Blaise looked completely unaffected—she couldn't even sense an emotional reaction. Could he somehow block his emotions from her even though she couldn't do the same from him? Or had he known that this was coming?

He turned to her and held out his hand, and she hesitated before handing him the goblet. As if that strange ritual before hadn't been enough… what was _this_ going to do to them? She watched as he downed the contents of the cup in a few gulps.

Voldemort turned around. "Good."

As he spoke the word, Blaise's hand loosened around the goblet, and it shattered upon contact with the floor. He collapsed a moment later, unconscious. Hermione stopped herself from lunging out to support him, instead taking a small step back.

"What's wrong with him?" she asked, unable to repress her curiosity.

"He is adjusting. Now tell me, what have you _children_ been doing near the Ministry of Magic?"

"We're studying the comings and goings of Ministry workers through the Muggle entrance."

"To what end?"

"Lupin hasn't told us directly, but we're brewing Polyjuice Potion, so the intention isn't so difficult to guess."

Voldemort nodded. "Any word on what the remaining Hogwarts professors are doing?"

"I only know that they're searching for backup. Most of them have gone overseas."

"I see. Well, that is all I needed to hear."

Blaise shifted on the ground, and Hermione glanced at him.

"I have an assignment for you. Savage, that Auror, has managed to elude capture. I want you to find him and bring him to me, dead or alive. Take the boy with you—he should be able to help."

"Yes, My Lord," said Hermione.

"Good. You may return to watching the Ministry entrance now."

Hermione levitated Blaise out of the room, turning around at the door to bow once before leaving. She heard Bellatrix beginning to speak as the door swung shut, but she didn't care to know what the woman was saying.

* * *

**Author's Note:** The effects of this new potion will be revealed in the next chapters. Until then, if you've got time, want to read something else by me and haven't done so already, I've posted two one-shots called _Torture_ and _My Flower_ that you can take a look at. Please review!


	10. IX Blurred Lines

**Author's Note:** I said I'd post it soon, but I didn't think it would be _this_ soon. Oh well though, I couldn't wait. So here's the next chapter! I'm really curious to see what you guys think so please, please, please stick it out to the end of the chapter and leave a review!

**IX. Blurred Lines**

Hermione brought Blaise back to the same alley near the Muggle entrance to the Ministry. He fell to the floor heavily, and she immediately dropped to her knees, trying to wake him up.

"Come _on_, Blaise, wake up!"

His eyes opened and slowly focused on her.

"Are you okay?"

Blaise groaned. "What the bloody hell did you give me to drink?"

Hermione shook her head. "I have no idea. How do you feel?"

He coughed and tried to sit up. "Like hell."

Hermione reached out and supported him, helping him into a sitting position. She was surprised by how weak he seemed.

"Did you have to drink any of that nasty stuff this time?" he asked.

"No."

Blaise sighed. "Lucky." He looked around. "Why are we… here?"

"Voldemort told me to take you back," said Hermione. "Do you feel any different from before?"

Blaise shook his head. "Nope. Stop being so worried all the time. What'd I tell you about strokes?"

Hermione managed a weak smile. She really wanted to know what potion she'd had to give him. Voldemort had said something about making the connection permanent…

"That smile is not convincing at all, Master."

Hermione froze. "_What_ did you just call me?"

"I…" he began matter-of-factly. Then he seemed to remember the word that had come out of his mouth, and his expression changed drastically. "Aw, bloody hell. What now?"

"I guess—I'll just give you an order. Call me Hermione, or Granger, not master."

"They're _sick_," said Blaise, going on as though he hadn't heard her. "I can't believe—how _could_ they—aw, fuck. Just kill me now."

"Don't say that," she said sternly. "Do you know what the potion was?"

"Yeah, _now_ I do! Fuck!"

"Please, stop cursing. It's not helping."

Blaise groaned. "_Nothing's_ going to help."

"Well… at least explain. There's an antidote to every potion, isn't there?"

"If it's the potion I'm thinking of, then I'm not gonna be able to get an antidote. Was it silver?"

"Yes. I was told to put a drop of my blood in it."

Blaise mouthed an expletive, and he glared at her when no sound came out.

"Honestly, how will cursing make you feel better?"

"It just does, don't ask me how!"

Hermione sighed. "Just explain, Blaise."

He glared at her, but words came tumbling out of his mouth against his will. "That potion is ancient, part of the Malfoy family tradition. No one outside the family knows what the ingredients are—all I know is that they're extremely rare. Priceless, even. They used it centuries ago to bind especially disobedient slaves."

Hermione flinched at his last word and said, "How do you know?"

"Draco said so. I thought he was yanking my chain, but turns out he was telling the truth." He looked resigned now.

"Blaise… I'm so sorry. I was going to refuse, but—"

"I'm not mad at you. I know there was nothing you could have done." He sighed. "I don't think there's a way out of this, not without going to someone in the family. And I don't think the Dark Lord would approve of that."

Hermione looked down. It was like a higher power was messing with her. She'd always been against forced labor. She was one of the only people who thought house elves deserved rights, for goodness' sake! But through some sick twist of fate, she'd become a slave owner who didn't even have the ability to free her slave. Then she realized that this must have been Voldemort's intention. He was trying to erase her morality, to wipe away any decency in her. She had now tortured, killed, and enslaved people. Merlin… what was she turning into?

Blaise's hand rested over hers, and she was surprised by how gentle his touch was.

"Hermione, don't feel so guilty," he said.

Her head jerked up, but when her eyes met with his brown ones, she relaxed and looked back down at their hands. For a second, she'd thought she heard Draco's voice come out of his mouth. God, she was losing her mind.

If he noticed her strange reaction, he chose not to acknowledge it. He continued, "If they didn't pick you, I would probably have been a lot worse off. Imagine if I'd been bound to Bellatrix. I think I'd probably try to commit suicide before taking her orders. This really isn't your fault."

She looked up at him. "Is this the potion talking?"

"No, it's me."

Hermione sighed. "You probably wouldn't be able to tell the difference either way."

"Of course I can tell," said Blaise, frowning. "I've been enslaved, not brainwashed."

Hearing the word "enslaved" spoken aloud set Hermione off, and she got to her feet. Blaise, who seemed to have recovered considerably, stood up beside her.

"Let's go do our job," she said.

"What's the point? We all know no one will be coming out this hour."

"Just come."

Blaise shook his head but followed her as they left the alley and crossed the street to a small café. They sat at one of the outside tables, and soon a waitress came to take their orders. Hermione politely declined, and Blaise ordered a vanilla latte.

Hermione was reminded of a very short, risky date with Draco a few months ago…

_She linked arms with Draco, huddling close to his side as the wind blew, giving her the chills. They were near their flat in Muggle London, strolling down the street. The sun was about to set, and the sky was beautiful, colored with splashes of pink, purple, and blue._

_That afternoon, she'd slipped some Sleeping Potion into Harry and Ron's drinks; after destroying the locket, they were still struggling to find out what was to be done next. None of them slept well at night, and she figured that a Sleeping Potion would give them some rest, and allow her some time to spend with her dear beloved._

_She'd Apparated to their flat to find him on the couch, asleep. He'd gotten there a few days ago and waited patiently until she had a chance to join him._

_After catching up a bit, they had agreed to go on a walk together. If they got caught, then as Draco said, the world could go to hell. He would take her away, and they would spend their lives as fugitives if it meant they would never have to part with each other again._

_They sat down at a small café, and Draco picked up the menu._

"_I have no idea what any of this is," he confessed._

_Hermione laughed. "Just pick something."_

"_You're not going to give me any helpful suggestions?"_

_She shook her head._

"_Fine, let's see." He looked through the choices. "Why couldn't we have just gone to a pub? I'm more familiar with Muggle alcohol."_

_Hermione smiled. "I like it better when you're uncomfortable."_

_Suddenly she felt his hand brush her inner thigh under the table, and she jumped._

"_Feeling's mutual," he said, smirking._

_Hermione swatted his hand away playfully. "Aren't you supposed to be pampering your date instead of teasing her?" she huffed._

_Draco's reply was cut off when a waitress approached the table._

"_What can I get for you?" she asked, batting her eyelashes at Draco._

_He smiled. "Vanilla latte. Small."_

_The waitress turned to look at a very amused Hermione._

"_I'll have a hot chocolate."_

_The waitress turned back to Draco. "Would you like anything else?" she asked._

"_No, that'll be it," he replied._

"_All right, then. Well, if you need anything, just ask me."_

_She walked away, exaggerating the swishing motion of her hips._

"_That's a pretty girl, and I think she likes you. Why don't you ask her out?" Hermione teased._

"_You know, I would. But then I know there'd be this other girl that I wouldn't be able to get off my mind, and I wouldn't want to be unfaithful to that poor waitress from the very start. So it looks like I'm stuck with the one I've got."_

_Hermione smiled. "But she's thinking about dumping you for checking out that other girl."_

"_She couldn't dump me if she tried."_

"_Wanna bet?"_

_Draco leaned forward over the table, beckoning with one finger for her to lean closer too. She humored him, waiting to see what he would say. Instead of replying, he inched forward and closed the distance between them, brushing her lips with his ever so gently. He immediately backed away._

_Hermione shook her head, a small smile lingering on her lips._

"_Well, aren't you a tease? Come here."_

_She reached a hand behind his head to pull him into a longer kiss, and he didn't resist._

_When they finally broke the kiss, they were both breathing hard._

"_We're in public," Hermione whispered._

"_Yes, I know."_

"_Should we go?"_

"_I want to."_

"_What about our drinks?"_

"_Damn the drinks. You'll be better than a vanilla latte, whatever the hell that is."_

_Hermione laughed at this and got to her feet. Draco left some Muggle money on the table, and they exited the café together. They held hands as they ran back to the flat, laughing the whole way as though they had not a care in the world. To the people they passed by in the street, they must have looked like such a happy young couple._

A gust of wind tugged at her cloak, and she remembered where she was.

She missed that carefree feeling. Sure, she'd still been on the quest for Horcruxes with Harry and Ron, and Voldemort was still untouchable, but Draco had been there. As long as he was around, she had hope that everything would be all right. Now that he'd gone…

Hermione glanced up to see Blaise quickly averting his eyes.

"What?" she said.

"What do you mean, what?"

"Why were you watching me?"

"I wasn't—"

"Don't lie to me."

"Fu—ah, I can't even—I hate this."

"Well?" said Hermione expectantly.

"I was watching your memory," he said, staring intently at his cup. She hadn't even noticed when his drink arrived.

Hermione frowned. "You… you can do that?"

"You didn't stop me."

"I didn't know you were there."

"Well, now you know."

"Can I get inside your head too, now?" Hermione asked. She hadn't been able to do it intentionally before, and she was curious about whether or not this ancient Malfoy concoction had given her that power.

"Probably. Don't ask me how, though—I honestly don't know."

"Then how did you—"

"I really don't know," said Blaise. "I was just looking at your face, and next thing I knew, I was watching you and Draco walk into a coffee shop."

Hermione frowned again. "You're not lying."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Obviously."

He leaned over the table toward her, but she didn't back away. He stopped about an inch away from her face, and she suddenly had a flashback of Draco's face from the memory.

"Does it scare you?" Blaise asked in a low voice.

Hermione blinked. "What?"

"The fact that I got into your thoughts without meaning to. Does it scare you?"

"I'm not scared, I'm just worried," she said.

Blaise smirked. "Liar," he whispered.

She felt his breath on her lips and thought she'd forgotten how to breathe.

_Back off._

Blaise promptly leaned back in his chair, smiling casually as he lifted the cup of coffee to take a sip.

Hermione could breathe again. Wasn't he supposed to be the one taking her orders? It seemed that despite the fact that he'd been the one… _enslaved_, he was still in control of the situation. She didn't like that feeling one bit.

"I think our shift is about up—let's go," she said.

"Sure," said Blaise. He finished off his coffee and put it back down on the table with a few bills.

They reached Grimmauld Place not two minutes later, and Hermione immediately headed for the kitchen, aching to avoid spending any more time alone with Blaise. She'd been so comfortable around him before, but feeling his breath on her lips… the sensation was too… did she dare say familiar? Tempting, even.

Ron was the first to greet her when she entered the kitchen.

"Hi, Hermione. Are you feeling better?"

Hermione nodded, hoping that her face didn't give anything away. If anything, she felt a lot worse than earlier. When she'd left Grimmauld Place that evening, she'd only been preoccupied with a burning left arm. Now… she didn't quite know what it was that she was dealing with.

"Luna, come on," said Neville, getting up from his seat at the table, where he'd been watching Terry and Michael play wizard's chess yet again.

"Chess again?" Hermione commented as Neville and Luna left the room for their shift.

Terry smiled grimly. "I'm actually starting to get bored. And this is my favorite game."

"There's nothing else to do in this house, unless you want to go out and play peek-a-boo with Mrs. Black," said Ron.

Blaise chuckled and sat down by Michael to watch the game.

"Where are Harry and Ginny?" asked Hermione.

"Snogging upstairs, I expect," said Michael absentmindedly. "Knight to A4."

"Tricky one, you are," said Terry.

Hermione shook her head. She still thought wizard's chess was barbaric. "Where's George, then?" she asked.

"Upstairs inventing again," said Ron. "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Makes him feel better."

She sat down on Michael's other side, where Neville had been sitting earlier. There was nothing really for her to do. It was dark already, and the potions didn't need stirring. After staring blankly at the chessboard for a few turns, she got up, announced that she was tired, and headed upstairs.

As she opened her door, hands roughly pushed her into her room, and then the door was closed. She spun around to see Ron fixing an intense gaze on her.

He flicked his wand behind him and murmured, "Muffliato."

"Ron, what are you doing?" asked Hermione, reaching for her wand.

"Expelliarmus!" Ron cried as soon as she'd grasped the handle.

Her wand flew out of her hand, and Ron snatched it out of the air. He pointed his wand at her. Hermione backed away as he stepped toward her. He'd flung her wand behind him, and she saw it clatter uselessly to the floor right by the closed door.

"Stop," she said firmly.

He continued walking toward her slowly, his wand still pointed at her chest. His face was flushed, and he looked furious, mutinous.

What had she done to him? She'd been perfectly civil lately, and she'd thought that he was acting completely normal as well.

Her back hit the wall, and she briefly considered asking Blaise for help. She immediately dismissed the notion. She felt uncomfortable enough around him as it was, without another awkward confrontation involving Ron. She could deal with this temperamental boy on her own.

"Ron, please don't—"

"Silencio."

Hermione's mouth continued to move, but no sound came out—her voice died in her throat. Ron took another step closer to her, his wand still trained on her. Would he really hurt her if she tried to get away? She glared at him; she knew she'd always been able to intimidate him with that look.

But instead of being intimidated, he looked even more infuriated than before.

"Hermione, I'm so sick of this."

Sick of what, she wanted to ask.

"I'm sick and tired of looking at you and never being able to touch you. Sometimes I feel like I can't even _talk_ to you anymore. I really cared about you, and I thought you really cared about me. But I'm starting to think you were just leading me on—"

Leading him on? The nerve!

Hermione's hand rose of its own accord and slapped him across the face. She immediately regretted it, because with two purposeful flicks of his wand, thick ropes had captured her wrists and tugged her arms up above her head, making her feel extremely vulnerable.

She lifted her leg to kick him, but with another flick of his wand, she lost control over her limbs. He stowed his wand back within his robes, his blue eyes boring into her brown ones. She turned her head away, refusing to look at him. He gripped her chin tightly and jerked her head back to face him.

_Let go, let go, let go! _She was screaming inside her head, but she couldn't break the Silencing Charm.

His lips pressed against hers, and she clamped her mouth shut. His hands glided down her back and squeezed her bottom lightly. If she could just make a sound… but that'd be useless! He'd used Muffliato already—no one would be able to hear her.

She managed to jerk her head to the side, and he dragged his lips along her jaw to her neck. She didn't feel anything but disgust and wished she could push him away. Her arms and legs wouldn't respond to her commands.

Then she felt his hands slide under her shirt and run up her front, stopping just below her bra. They slid around to her back to fumble with the clasp as he started to suck on her neck, and she'd never felt so violated.

No, no, no, no, no. She'd sooner accept having to handle unpleasantness with Blaise than allow Ron to have his way with her.

But before she'd had time to send the command, the lock clicked, and the door was pushed open.

Ron spun around, reaching for his wand, but a jet of red light hit him in the chest before he'd even grasped the handle.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Blaise coming toward her.

"Sorry. I should have come sooner—I thought you'd be upset if you knew I was intruding on your emotions again."

He stopped in front of Ron and looked at her, puzzled by how quiet she was.

_I've been Silenced, you dolt. Will you help me or not?_

Blaise chuckled. _I'm perfectly content watching you hang, actually. Seeing you in this position is very pleasing to the eye._

_Let me down!_

"All right, all right, I'm coming," said Blaise with an evil grin.

He stepped over Ron and reached up to manually untie the ropes around her wrists. In order to see the knot clearly, he had to step closer to her, pressing against her. She squirmed uncomfortably.

"My, my, these are bound _very_ tightly," he commented.

_Why can't you just use your wand?_ Hermione demanded.

_What's the fun in that?_

_Let me down now, you pervert!_

_Fine._

Blaise waved his wand, and she regained her ability to move her limbs. The ropes disappeared, and she rubbed her wrists, then wiped his spit away from her lips and neck, disgusted.

"Can't believe the Weasel would actually try to force himself on you. Are you going to tell the others?"

Hermione shook her head and started to speak, only to find that she still didn't have her voice. She looked at Blaise, exasperated, and he waved his wand again.

"_Finally_. No, I won't tell the others. No harm done."

"If I hadn't come, there might have been plenty of harming."

"Well, if he had actually succeeded, of course I'd tell them. But this, I could use it as blackmail."

Blaise grinned. "Are you sure you don't belong in Slytherin?"

"Hush. Let's go—he can wake up whenever he wakes up. I'll let him try to explain what he's doing in here to Ginny or Luna." She walked past him to the doorway and picked up her wand.

"You go ahead."

Hermione noted a flicker of vengeful anger cross Blaise's expression, and she sighed.

"No. You're coming with me, and you're _not_ going to hurt Ron."

"But he just—"

"Don't argue with me about this."

Blaise followed her out of the room, but as soon as they'd walked outside, he grabbed her by the elbow and started dragging her up the stairs. When they reached Sirius's old room on the top floor—usually everyone stayed away out of respect—he shut the door and turned around.

"That weasel was about to rape you, Hermione. I don't care if you're not going to do anything about it yourself, but you can't just tell me not to do anything."

"I can—I just did. And I thought I told you not to argue!"

"I'm not arguing, I'm just… stating my thoughts very forcefully."

"Then stop doing that. We're not going to talk about this anymore, and you are _not_ going to hurt Ron. Don't twist my words around to find a loophole. Understand?"

_I hate being your slave._

Just hearing that word again made her cringe.

"I'm sorry."

She knew her voice didn't sound apologetic at all, but she couldn't bring herself to care about Blaise's feelings. Besides, she was almost certain that he'd gone out of his way to make her uncomfortable at the café. If he'd really seen her memory, then he would have known how Draco had leaned toward her and kissed her.

His voice sounded in her head, pulling her out of her thoughts.

_Did the Dark Lord give us any new orders?_

Hermione nodded. She'd almost forgotten about them completely because of how messed up she'd been about becoming a slave owner.

_We have to catch Savage. He said he doesn't care if we kill him._

_Perfect. I still have to get back at him…_

Blaise's hand ran absentmindedly along the left side of his head, where two faint scars remained. He'd apparently hid them with some camouflaging spell the morning when Lupin had spoken to him in private, but now he didn't bother anymore—they'd faded enough so that they were hardly noticeable.

Before she knew what she was doing, Hermione had taken a step closer to him and reached up to touch the longer of the two scars. Her gaze shifted a bit to the left, and she noticed surprise in his eyes. She herself was surprised by her actions, but she didn't want to look like she wasn't in control. She gently ran her finger along the scar. He closed his eyes.

Her eyes fluttered shut too, and she let her hand slide lower so that her palm rested against his cheek. She breathed deeply and tried to feel. For the first time, she detected a fleeting sense of fear coming from him. Raw, unabated fear. What was he afraid of? But the moment had passed, and now she couldn't identify what he was feeling. Was he capable of blocking his emotions from her?

She felt him moving his head toward her—her hand followed his cheek as he leaned closer. They were both aware that she could stop him at any moment with a single thought.

But she didn't.

His lips touched down on hers, and though she inhaled sharply through her nose in surprise, she didn't force him away. She felt the pressure increase on her lips, and his tongue slid across her lower lip in a motion that was so, so familiar. She shuddered at the strong craving that consumed her—she felt like she was standing at the edge of a cliff, and this feeling was urging her to take just one last step.

Was the desire that forced her heart to pound in double-time coming from him, or herself? She'd lost sense of where he ended and where she began.

Her lips parted, and his tongue slipped into her mouth. Her breath hitched in her throat as a thrill ran through her and warmth swelled in her belly, a familiar sensation that she hadn't felt since… since the last time she'd been with Draco.

_No_… no one other than Draco could make her feel this way.

She pressed at his chest with her free hand, and he backed up. Part of her protested her decision, lamenting the loss of contact between them.

"Hermione…" he said quietly, pressing his forehead against hers. She didn't respond, and he continued, "you know how we can feel each other's emotions?"

Hermione nodded, her eyes still closed, her breathing returning to normal. Somehow she knew, without opening her eyes, that his eyes were still closed as well.

"I want you to think about something."

"Okay."

"Imagine… how amazing sex would be."

Hermione's eyes snapped open, and she blinked a few times. His expression was very serene, and he slowly opened his dark brown eyes to look at her. Her right hand, which had slid around to grip the back of his neck during their kiss, wouldn't respond to her own command to release him.

"You're joking," she managed to choke out.

Blaise shook his head, his eyes never leaving hers. "No. I'm absolutely serious. Just think about it."

She finally pulled her disobedient hand back and took a step backwards, away from him. "Let's get one thing straight here, Blaise. I am never, _ever_ going to sleep with you."

He didn't look deterred in the least. "Why the bloody hell not? You're single, I'm single, we're both consenting adults—"

"I haven't _consented_ to anything," said Hermione, _finally_ regaining some control over herself and her situation. She still didn't know what had come over her—why had she let him…? "Besides, isn't having sex with your best friend's girlfriend supposed to be a big no-no for you men?"

"Draco and I were close. And he did tell me to take care of you."

"I'm sure he didn't mean it in a sexual way, Blaise."

"Oh, come on."

"I don't care how close you were to Draco. There is _no fucking way_ that anyone, and I mean _anyone_, will ever replace him," she stated with finality.

Blaise was silent, and Hermione closed her eyes again to get a better sense of what he was feeling so that she could prepare herself for his response. She couldn't distinguish anything except a strange… satisfaction?

She opened her eyes, frowning. "Blaise… was that a test?"

He just smiled.

* * *

**Author's Note:** What do you think? I must know. Therefore, REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW :)


	11. X Catching Savage

**Author's Note:** This chapter is a bit shorter and maybe a bit more tedious to read than usual. I'll update again soon, though. As always, read and review!

**X. Catching Savage**

Hermione rubbed her hands together and blew on her fingertips. The rain pounded down on her, and the wind picked up yet again, shaking the branches of the surrounding trees. She was drenched—rainwater had soaked through her layers of clothing almost an hour ago, and still she was waiting in the middle of the clearing. She'd known he was cautious, but _this_ cautious? She knew he was waiting out there, watching her from a place that she couldn't see. She was determined to prove that his patience couldn't outlast hers.

It'd been almost exactly ten months since she'd gotten the mission to catch or kill Savage, and still she hadn't even caught a glimpse of the man—he was a very, _very_ skilled Auror.

The day after Ron cornered her, he had apologized, tried to say that he wasn't in his right mind. She'd told him to stay away from her, and he'd said that he understood that he screwed up his chances with her. What chances? Those chances had died after the Yule Ball. But she supposed he hadn't gotten the hint then, and she decided not to crush the illusion that he'd still had a chance.

The Order had put the Polyjuice Potion, as well as their elaborate schedules, to good use. George, Terry, Neville, Harry, Ron, and Ginny had all taken on roles of workers at the Ministry; to make it work, they'd all had to practice the Imperius Curse on other members of the Order until they'd had it down pat. No one liked the idea of having to use an Unforgivable Curse, but these were desperate times, and they had few options. They'd also started brewing new batches of Polyjuice Potion. After a while, Harry, George, and Terry had mastered Human Transfiguration and were able to simply Transfigure into their disguises, but Ginny, Neville, and Ron hadn't gotten it down yet.

They'd started with the man that Harry was going to impersonate—being the oh-so-noble hero that he was, he wanted to make sure that the plan would work before letting the others put themselves in danger. First, they had sent Harry under the Invisibility Cloak to follow him to work and find out his job—and his name, which turned out to be Casey Heron. Heron worked at the Department of Intoxicating Substances, a subdivision of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Harry had had to wait until Heron got off work. Then he'd tailed Heron to his home and gotten the details on his family before returning to Grimmauld Place.

The next morning, Harry and George knocked Heron out before he could get to work, and Harry took the potion with some of his hair. He spent the day working as Casey Heron, and at night, he went to Heron's home and placed his wife under the Imperius Curse—luckily, the Herons only had a newborn baby who wouldn't know the difference. If anyone became curious about whether or not her husband was home, she would invite them in and make them wait in the living room. Then she would go into her bedroom and contact Harry through the fireplace. Harry would Apparate into the bedroom and go downstairs to greet the guest. Aside from that, she was supposed to live life as though nothing had changed.

They performed the same procedure on the next five Ministry workers, with slight variations. They'd had to switch out Ginny's target because the woman had four children. They'd originally intended for Michael to go instead of Neville. When Michael finally admitted that he wasn't sure of himself—he'd been taking the death of his parents very hard—Neville had offered to take his place.

Every day, the six left for "work" at different times, and the house became very quiet in their absence. They'd kept the kidnapped workers downstairs in the basement under very powerful Confundus Charms, making them believe that they were there of their own will. It made no logical sense, yet the workers believed in it. Michael had applauded Hermione's skill in casting that spell.

Unfortunately, they hadn't gotten much information from the positions at the Ministry. There were occasionally whispers of what Voldemort might be doing, but as soon as any questions were asked, the information stopped coming. Apparently, Voldemort's minions in the Ministry were very cautious and suspected almost anyone of being secretly loyal to the Order.

The only thing that almost every Ministry worker was focused on was the organization of the 423rd Quidditch World Cup, which was to take place the next summer…

No, just next month, Hermione realized. It had really been that long…

The Ministry had announced its cancellation sometime before the battle at Hogwarts, but it seemed that Voldemort was going to allow it to go on as usual. The information had been interesting, but it didn't offer much to their cause.

There hadn't been much luck on Hermione's side, either. With no progress in catching Savage, Voldemort didn't feel the need to speak with her. She'd responded to many summons of the Dark Mark, but each time, she'd been turned away by a Death Eater who said that the Dark Lord did not need her yet. Although the members of the Order were unhappy with her lack of progress, she wasn't complaining. She hated speaking to Voldemort. She'd only done so twice, and inside, she was terrified of him.

In all that time, she hadn't spent a single day away from Blaise. She'd slowly grown to trust him—after all, he couldn't defy her orders. But still she refrained from sharing all of her thoughts and feelings with him. There was a part of her that wasn't ready to open up to anyone, but she felt that when she was finally ready, he would be the first person she spoke to.

He hadn't tried to make any moves on her after that night; he'd behaved almost like a gentleman toward her since then. Although he hadn't given her a straight answer, she now believed that he really _had_ been testing her. Why, she had no idea—Draco wasn't coming back, so he wouldn't know the difference.

At the thought of him, her chest clenched painfully. His empty eyes flashed before her yet again, and she let some tears escape her eyes—no one would be able to tell the difference anyway with all the rain streaming down her cheeks. Still, almost eleven months after his death, she felt acutely affected by his absence. The hole in her chest would never be filled again.

No, she couldn't break down. She had to focus. Scanning her surroundings again, she still saw no sign of anyone anywhere. Was he hiding out there, or had he really been lying?

To pass the time, she tried to think of a happy memory, something to put her at ease so that she wouldn't be too on edge when Savage finally decided to show himself.

"_I really, really don't want to do this, Draco."_

"_If you really didn't want to, you wouldn't be here."_

_Hermione folded her arms across her chest. "I'm only here because you said you'd wait all night if I didn't come."_

"_Well, you're here already. Come on."_

_She looked at the broom._

_It was way past midnight, and they were standing on the Quidditch pitch. The sky was free of clouds, and the moon and stars shone brightly._

"_Honestly, I'm an awful flier, and I'm afraid of heights, and I—" she babbled._

_Draco scowled. "Oh, quit whining. I thought you were supposed to be brave."_

"_You can't say that I belong in Slytherin one day and then criticize me for not acting like a Gryffindor the next, Draco."_

_He just laughed, amused. "Sure I can. Hop on."_

"_I'm gonna kill you," Hermione grumbled._

_She mounted the broom in front of Draco, and he reached around in front of her to grip the handle. He kicked off, and Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, sitting stiffly._

"_Relax, Hermione," Draco whispered in her ear. "Open your eyes."_

"_No. If I see how high up we are, I'm going to scream."_

"_We aren't even that high up," he reassured her._

_Hermione cracked her eye open a bit and gasped. They had to be at least fifty feet high. She held back a scream and whimpered, "This isn't that high?"_

_Draco chuckled and squeezed her with his upper arms, his hands still tightly grasping the handle of the broom. "Don't worry, Hermione. You can't fall when you're in my arms."_

_She just shook her head, closing her eyes again. Not being able to see just how high they were made her feel better._

"_Wanna see how fast we can go?" she heard him ask._

"_I'd really rather—"_

_Draco suddenly leaned forward, shoving her forward against the broom, and her last word came out in a scream._

"—_NOOOOOOOOOOTT!"_

_He was laughing in her ear as they bolted forward. Then he gave the broom an upward tug, and they started climbing upward, higher and higher._

"_Stop—stop—STOP! We're gonna fall—we're gonna die!"_

"_Relax," said Draco as he pulled level and slowed the broom to a stop._

_Hermione was staring down now—she couldn't stop imagining how dreadful it'd be to fall from this height. The Quidditch pitch looked like a small oval to her._

"_Stop looking down," Draco said in her ear, still sounding amused._

"_I can't."_

_Draco's left hand released the broom, and Hermione squealed, making him laugh again. She thought they'd fall, but they stayed steady. He used his free hand to tilt her chin upward and lowered his voice._

"_Look at the stars from here."_

_His hand went back to its original position on the broom, and she felt safer. She let her eyes wander across the night sky, taking in the sparkling flecks that stood out from the surrounding blackness. Each star had a little halo of light surrounding it, something she hadn't ever taken the time to notice before. Or maybe it was just because she'd never looked at the stars from so close up._

"_They're… beautiful," she said._

"_Now tell me, would you ever get a view like this from down below?"_

_Hermione glanced to her right and noticed that they were hovering higher up than the Astronomy Tower._

"_Hermione?" Draco said inquiringly._

_She'd relaxed considerably, leaning back on him._

"_I haven't ever been this high up before," she said._

_Draco laughed yet again. She enjoyed that sound—she'd heard it so many times this night, but it still didn't seem enough._

"_Do you trust me?" he asked, easing the broom forward a little._

_Hermione giggled. "You sound like Aladdin."_

"_Who's that?"_

"_Never mind. Um, no. I don't trust you at all."_

_She could practically hear his smirk as he replied, "Aw, too bad."_

_Suddenly, the broom handle turned downward, and Hermione screamed as they plummeted down. The ground, which had seemed too dangerously far away before, was now rushing up to meet them, coming closer and closer far too quickly for her comfort. She felt like her heart had leapt into her throat, and she couldn't stop screaming._

_Just as she decided that they'd hit the ground for sure, Draco tugged up on the handle, and they were level again. Hermione finally stopped screaming, gasping for air. Draco whooped excitedly._

"_Damn, that's even more fun with an extra person on board. Let's do it again!"_

"_No—no way!"_

"_I was kidding. We should probably hurry up and get inside. I wouldn't be surprised if your screams woke up half the castle."_

_Hermione blushed furiously. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek as he flew them upward, around to the other side of the castle._

"_I'll drop you off at your window," he said._

_They reached it within seconds, and she pulled out her wand to open the window. She climbed in, terrified of losing her footing and falling to her death. Something told her Draco would have been able to catch her._

_When she was inside, he drifted even closer to the window and pulled her over to taste her lips._

"_I wish you could stay," she whispered, looking into his eyes._

_Draco smiled. "Next time."_

_Hermione pouted. "I don't even know when we'll get to see each other again."_

"_Double Potions tomorrow, silly."_

_She shook her head. "You know what I mean. We've only got a few weeks left."_

_Draco leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers. "If we can't meet again this term, I'll fly by your window on the last night, all right? I promise."_

"_I want you to come whether or not we see each other before the term ends."_

"_Whatever you want."_

"_Don't you dare forget."_

"_I won't."_

_They shared another brief kiss, and he zoomed away from the window, darkness enveloping him as he got farther away until he was just a dark shape. Then he rounded the next tower and disappeared from sight._

She bit her lip. The memory of him flying away into the darkness seemed too much like a metaphor for his death.

Then a dark figure appeared and started moving very slowly toward her.

Finally.

She'd been waiting for the day that he would agree to see her, and she was beginning to wonder if he'd just been messing with her when he'd left a reply.

About a month after being assigned the job, Hermione and Blaise had discovered the place where he was staying. They left him an anonymous tip concerning the whereabouts of a low-level Death Eater whose disappearance Voldemort wouldn't lament, or even notice, for that matter.

Savage had ignored the tip, but then Hermione and Blaise began to leave a new one every few days. At long last, one of those Death Eaters was killed, and Hermione knew that he had followed the tip. After the murders of another few Death Eaters, Hermione left a note instead of a tip, saying that she wanted to meet him. There'd been no response, so she went back to leaving tips.

He stopped following them.

Blaise had been extremely frustrated and suggested that they just wait at the place until he showed, but Hermione reasoned with him. Savage would know if they were there, and he wouldn't enter. He was extremely careful, and if they lost this trail, she had no idea how long it would take to find him again.

However, after almost another month, they realized that he must have moved on already.

It had taken them four painfully long months to catch his scent again. This time, they kept the tips coming for a longer period of time. It took about a month before he finally followed one of them and killed a Death Eater. Then they'd fed him tips every few days for yet another month, hoping he would trust them. But when she asked to meet him the second time, he again stopped following the tips.

Blaise had said that he sensed that Savage hadn't left yet, so they stayed and waited. Sure enough, two weeks later, the Death Eaters started dying again. There seemed to be hope. When she asked the third time, three weeks ago, they'd picked up a response. He'd chosen the location and set the date, and now, _finally_, Hermione was standing about fifty yards away from him.

She had decided to perform Human Transfiguration on herself so that he wouldn't be able to recognize her—though they had never met before, he had most likely seen her in the papers. She didn't know how he would react if he saw that Hermione Granger was supplying him with tips about Death Eaters, so she'd felt that it would be safest if she arrived with the face of a random Muggle woman.

"You came," she said.

Savage stopped walking toward her when he was about ten yards away. She noticed that he had his wand in his hand already.

"I've been here for a while," he said.

"I thought so," said Hermione.

"You're very persistent. Who are you and why do you want to see me?"

"I thought you would have some theories on that."

"Yes, naturally I would."

Hermione felt the stone in her pocket grow hot enough to burn her—that was the confirmation that the man really was Savage. She hadn't ever seen the man before, so she hadn't been sure.

"I'd like to hear some of them," she said.

"I only have one theory, and it's very simple."

"And what is it?"

Savage lifted his wand, pointing it at her. "That you're a Death Eater, under orders from Voldemort."

She smiled. "Really? Is that what you think?"

Savage narrowed his eyes, and Hermione tilted her head to the side a little bit.

"Well, if that's really what you think, why haven't you killed me yet?" she asked. "You already know that I didn't bring a wand here."

She knew the answer. He had to make sure before he killed her. He really was one of the best Aurors—maybe that's why Voldemort was so keen on getting rid of him.

Instead of answering, Savage said, "Pull up the sleeve on your left arm. Slowly."

Hermione nodded and slowly started pulling the sleeve up. She kept her eyes on Savage's. His eyes were following the motion of her sleeve. She took a deep breath as she reached the spot right below the Mark. She almost stopped right then.

Trust. She had to trust him.

As soon as the Dark Mark was exposed, Savage hissed and shot a Killing Curse at her. She dove out of the way, and as Savage turned to hurl another curse her way, a Stunning Spell hit him in the back, and he fell.

"Well… that was anticlimactic. I thought he'd put up more of a fight," Blaise said, emerging from his hiding place. He walked over and helped Hermione to her feet. "So, the Dark Lord said we could kill him, didn't he?"

"Yes, but we're not going to."

"Why not? It'll be better for him if we just kill him now," said Blaise.

Hermione looked at him and shook her head.

Clearly frustrated, he said, "Don't you get it? If we bring him alive, the Dark Lord is just going to torture him into joining his side. And if he doesn't, he'll get killed. We both know he won't turn and work for the Dark Lord, so why don't we just spare him the pain and kill him now?"

"He could still make it out alive," said Hermione. "He could escape."

"What are the chances? _No one_ has escaped yet. I'm not a real success story."

"Just stop arguing with me."

Blaise glared at her.

"I'm sorry," she said, sighing. She'd tried to use her power over him as little as possible, but it still happened sometimes.

"Fine, let's take him back to the Manor."

Hermione nodded. She couldn't wait to finally get out of the rain.

"Can I have my wand back?"

Blaise smirked at her, and again there was that same feeling of familiarity. She couldn't stop noticing similarities between him and Draco. It seemed as though she drew more and more parallels between the two as time went by. She'd concluded that it was a coping mechanism—she wanted to see Draco somewhere, and since he and Blaise had been such good friends, Blaise was ideal for her to project on.

"No, you're safe here. You won't _need_ it," he said teasingly, reminding her of what she'd said to him on his first day in Grimmauld Place.

"Oh, just give it to me."

He pulled her wand out of his pocket and handed it to her before walking over to Savage.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

Hermione pointed her wand at herself and returned herself to her natural appearance.

"Yes, I'm ready."

"See you on the other side, then."

She watched him Disapparate. A moment later, she Apparated in front of the Malfoy Manor. Thankfully, it wasn't raining in Wiltshire.

They went through the gates and started walking up to the building. Blaise was bringing Savage's inert body along using a Hover Charm.

"We should head back as soon as possible," said Blaise, looking up at the sky. "It's got to be way past dinnertime."

"Well, that's _your_ fault for telling them we'd be back in time for dinner."

"I didn't want your silly friends to worry about you. Besides, I didn't know he'd keep us waiting out there for over an hour."

Hermione sighed. "Let's hope this doesn't take too long, then."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Oh yeah, I was thinking about posting all of the flashbacks from here as a separate story after finishing this, so you can get Hermione and Draco's story in chronological order, since I sorta scattered them all over _Vengeance_ in a (sort of) random order. If you think it's a good idea, please leave me a review or send me a message! I probably won't do it if not enough people are interested because it'll take some time to create new documents for all the flashbacks (I _do_ already have them arranged in order for myself, though ^^)


	12. XI A Believable Excuse

**XI. A Believable Excuse**

As Hermione and Blaise reached the front doors of the Manor, they swung open.

Bellatrix stood just inside.

"What are you two—"

She stopped, seeing Savage's body hovering behind the pair.

"Well, well, well. You captured the Auror, after all. Right on time. I was beginning to think it'd never happen," she said softly, moving around them to get a better look at their captive.

"Can we speak to the Dark Lord?" asked Hermione.

"He has not returned yet. But he does have a question for the two of you. Were you betraying Death Eaters to Savage?"

"Yes," said Blaise.

"I wasn't speaking to you," said Bellatrix, and Blaise glared at her.

_Just stay calm_, Hermione told him. "We had to," she said to Bellatrix. "That's what it took to lure him to finally meet us."

"It's just as well. If our brothers weren't strong enough to defend themselves, then they wouldn't have helped our cause much anyway," said Bellatrix. "Well, bring him inside. We'll have to find a nice, comfortable cell for him."

She led the way toward the dungeons, but stopped at the top of the staircase.

"Granger, you can't come down here."

"Why not?"

Bellatrix smiled nastily. "Because I said so. Wait up here while I get our prisoner settled in. I will give you two your next assignment."

Blaise released his Hover Charm on Savage, and Bellatrix waved her wand once to take over. She descended a flight of stairs, opened a door at the bottom, and disappeared through it into the darkness. The door slammed shut behind her.

_Why can't I go down there? Do you know?_

Blaise shrugged. _Your guess is as good as mine._

She shook her head and paced back and forth at the top of the stairs impatiently. Bellatrix probably still didn't trust her, didn't want her to know how many prisoners they were keeping.

A few minutes later, Bellatrix returned.

"The next thing you are going to do," she said, getting straight to business, "is convince the Order that you have to leave for a while, and that you'll have to take Blaise with you."

"Why?"

"The Dark Lord wants you to stay in the Manor for a month or so. You've proven that you can hunt. Now we need to know you can extract."

Hermione took a deep breath. Extract information… as in torture?

Bellatrix seemed to understand from her expression. "Yes, the Cruciatus Curse will become your new best friend."

"And what will Blaise be doing?"

"Nothing that concerns you."

Hermione noticed Blaise's head jerk upwards. She found his eyes, and in them she saw surprise and worry.

"Then… when should I come?" asked Hermione.

"Within two days. Blaise has to be with you. We have use for him elsewhere."

Hermione nodded. "We'll be back."

She started for the door and heard Blaise fall into step behind her. They exited the Manor and quickly made their way toward the gates.

"What could they possibly want with me?" Blaise asked aloud.

Hermione shook her head. "I'm not sure, but we have to think of a reason for us to stay away from Grimmauld Place for a while."

"Let's discuss this somewhere else," said Blaise. _I always feel like I'm being watched here_, he added silently.

"All right, let's go to my place."

They Apparated to her living room, and she looked around sadly. Every time they returned to the place, she couldn't avoid thinking of the last time she'd been there with Draco.

Blaise sat down on the couch and rubbed his forehead. "I don't know how we're gonna convince Potter that letting us go is the best option. Lupin told all of us not to leave the house if we weren't going to be working at the Ministry. And Potter listens to him most of the time. It's going to be hard to talk him into letting us leave for an extended period of time."

"We just have to come up with something that… I don't know, something that needs doing."

They sat in silence for a little while, both trying to come up with ideas. They just needed one believable excuse, something that Harry cared about enough to make it worth letting them leave headquarters.

Hermione was developing a headache, and she wanted to sleep. She sighed impatiently.

"Maybe we can say that we're gonna go look for Hagrid. What do you think? He's disappeared off the map for almost a whole year. And we really care about him."

"We? Not me."

"We as in me, Harry, and Ron."

"Do you really think Harry cares enough about that oaf?"

"Oaf? Don't you _dare_ call Hagrid an oaf! And yes, I know he does care enough about Hagrid."

"Sorry."

"It's settled, then. We're going to say we're looking for Hagrid."

"Wait—you don't want to talk it out first?"

"No, I don't. Come on."

"I thought you always wanted to plan—"

"Well, we're gonna wing it. I am exhausted, drenched, and I just want to sleep."

Blaise looked amused. "All right, then. Improvisation has always been one of my strong points."

"Arrogant bastard," Hermione muttered as she Disapparated.

They Apparated onto the doorstep of Grimmauld Place, and Hermione headed straight for the kitchen. When she entered, she saw that only Harry, George, Ron, Michael and Luna were inside. They were all sitting at the table quietly.

"Where have you two been?" asked Michael when they came in. "It's way past dinnertime."

"Sorry," said Hermione. "It… um, well we got what we wanted."

"And what is that?"

"Information, obviously."

"Do you mean to say you finally have some information from Voldemort?" Harry asked, looking up from the table.

"Yes."

"Explain to me again, why does Zabini always go with you?" asked Ron.

"I Apparate to an intermediate place first and leave him there, that way if anyone tries to follow me back to the Order, they'll simply find me and Zabini in the middle of nowhere," said Hermione.

She and Blaise had cooked up this lie several months ago, when they started to leave together more often in their attempts to catch Savage.

"So, what's the news?" asked Harry.

"They were talking about catching Hagrid."

"Hagrid?" Harry and Ron exclaimed simultaneously.

"Is he all right?" Harry added worriedly.

"Of course not—not if they were going to _catch_ him," said Ron.

_You were right_, Hermione heard Blaise say in her head. She chose not to respond to him.

"Calm down, boys," she said. "They just have a clue to where he is."

"Then we've gotta go find him," said Harry.

"Well hold on, now," said Michael. "You two are working at the Ministry right now. You can't just pack up and leave."

"Hermione can put Heron and Shay back to normal, and then we'll get going!" said Ron.

Hermione sighed. "You're not being rational. It'll take a lot of effort for us to restore their memories and tell them everything that they should know. It's far easier for _me_ to go looking for Hagrid."

"You can't go by yourself," said Harry.

"She won't be by herself. Zabini is always with her," Luna observed.

"I don't mind taking him with me," added Hermione.

"I don't like the idea of you two out there all by yourselves," said Ron.

She fixed her eyes on him. "_Really_, Ron? When have you ever seen him try anything with me?" she asked pointedly.

The others noticed her strange question.

"Hermione… what are you talking about?" asked George.

She was still looking at Ron, who had looked away. Then she shifted her gaze to George. "Nothing." She returned to the topic at hand, "Look, I've got experience traveling on the run, and Zabini is very skilled with dueling. If it's safety you're worried about, there's no reason to worry."

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"Oh, I get it," said Blaise, finally speaking up. "It's been almost a full year, and after all this time, you still don't trust me."

"We didn't—" began Harry.

"Shove it. What do you think I'll do to her? She saved me. I know we had a rough spot in the past—I was a bigoted fool, I get it. Can we move on, now?"

"I really don't want to have to fix the Ministry workers' memories right now, so if you really want me to take another person, it's going to have to be either Michael or Luna. I know that you're both willing to come with me, but I think it's better if we keep both of you at headquarters. We can't just leave one person here to stand guard," said Hermione.

There was a short silence.

"Maybe we should wait until Lupin comes back again," said Ron quietly.

"We don't have _time_ for that," said Harry. "If the Death Eaters are on Hagrid's trail, then he's in danger. We have to find him before _they_ do."

"So… are we just going to let those two go? We don't even know how long they're going to be gone," said Ron.

"Hello? We're still standing right here," said Hermione. "Let's please decide this soon. I'm very tired, and I want to get some sleep tonight."

Harry sighed. "You're right, Hermione. You're always right. I guess… just be careful."

"We will," said Hermione. "Can I go, now?"

Harry nodded. No one else in the room spoke up, so she walked out of the kitchen. She heard Blaise follow her out and shut the door.

"They're probably talking about how likely it is that I'll attack you," he said glumly.

"I wouldn't be surprised."

When she reached her door, she said good night and went inside, silently undressing to go to bed. After she got into bed, she listened to Ginny's even breaths and tried to sleep, but she couldn't seem to stop thinking.

For some inexplicable reason, she'd thought that it wouldn't take that long for her to exact revenge on Harry. She'd naively thought that Harry would kill Voldemort soon, and she'd be free to make him pay for killing Draco. But it'd been almost a year since Draco's murder, and she felt no closer to getting vengeance. And to make matters worse, she had killed six innocent people and handed two over to the Death Eaters.

Well, at least she hadn't had to kill any more since that night. With Savage as her mission, she hadn't had to murder any innocents. But now that she and Blaise were going to be free from the Order, what would Voldemort make her do? She shuddered at the possibility of having to torture again, but it had to be done. She was sure that Voldemort wouldn't trust her until he thought she was cold-blooded enough to do his bidding without upsetting her morals.

The members of the Order hadn't made things easier on her. The professors and Lupin rarely showed up, and when they did, they usually stayed for a meal and were off again, refusing to share much information. Michael was in a constantly awful mood, although Hermione knew she was partially to blame for it—she still hadn't plucked up the courage to ask Blaise if one of Michael's parents had been among the six that she'd murdered. Luna had started to worry about her father when _The Quibbler_ stopped coming out, and she spoke less and less.

The other six members hadn't been around very often because they had to go to the Ministry, but whenever they were around, they didn't help much either. Ron was always sullen around her. Harry seemed to have sensed it, but he didn't do anything to help. And she wouldn't have wanted his help anyway. Ginny grew distant, and Hermione felt like she had so many secrets that she couldn't talk to Ginny anymore, anyway…

Then a voice invaded her head, interrupting her thoughts.

_What are you doing still awake?_

Ugh. Blaise.

_What do you want?_ Hermione asked.

_What are you thinking about that's keeping you up?_

_Why can't you leave me alone?_

_Because I can hear the cogs in your head spinning from two floors up, and all that whirring is keeping me awake. Tell me what's on your mind. You'll sleep better._

Hermione sighed. _Blaise, just go to sleep. That's an order._

_Aw, you don't mean that._

_Yes, I do. Go to sleep._

He didn't reply, and she shifted in her bed to get more comfortable.

Blaise was a constant presence—wherever she went, he went with her. Even when she went to the Manor without him, she felt as though he was beside her. She was secretly thankful that Draco had thought to leave her such a faithful friend to help her through this struggle. She would never admit it to him, but he really did make her feel better. It was like he always knew what she needed to hear, even if it pissed her off.

But she had to stop thinking about him. He'd been circling around in her head more and more often lately, and it was a bad sign. If she really did—God forbid—fall for him…

No, no, no. That wasn't going to happen. She would never, ever betray Draco. She could feel gratitude toward that man laying two floors above her, but nothing more, she decided with conviction.

To erase some positive feelings toward him, she tried to think back to the last time she'd seen him at school. When had that been?

_Hermione sighed. "If there ever were to be a pair of star-crossed lovers, it'd be us."_

_Draco shook his head. "I never cared much for Shakespeare. He was a lunatic. But I guess we're as star-crossed as they come, aren't we?"_

_She was staring at him. "You've read _Romeo and Juliet_?"_

"_Why is that so surprising?"_

"_I just… I never thought you would read Muggle literature."_

"_I'm an only child, and my parents didn't exactly like to play with me. As a kid, I read anything that I could get my hands on."_

"_Wow… I didn't expect us to have that in common. Turns out we were both rabid readers as kids."_

"_I think you're still a rabid reader."_

"_Obviously." Hermione smiled. "O Draco, Draco, wherefore art thou Draco? Deny thy father and refuse thy name, or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I'll no longer be a Gryffindor."_

_Draco laughed as she finished. He leaned down and kissed her nose. "You never cease to amuse me."_

"_Amuse? Are you sure you didn't mean amaze?"_

_He smirked. "Yes, I'm sure."_

_Then they heard footsteps coming from around the corner. Draco dropped his bag loudly._

"_Oi, Mudblood! Watch where you're going!" he exclaimed._

_Hermione played along, "_You_ crashed into me, you snob-nosed, spineless git!"_

_Zabini walked around the corner and saw Hermione. "Well, I wondered who would be able to piss off Draco so much. I should've known it was Mudblood Granger."_

"_Why, it's so nice to see you too, you insufferable, unmitigated prat," said Hermione._

_Draco stooped to pick up his bag, but Zabini held out his hand, stopping him._

"_Wait," he said._

_Draco glanced sideways at his friend but straightened up again._

"_Mudblood Granger here should pick it up _for_ you, since she ran into you."_

"_Don't make me hex you, Zabini."_

_He pulled out his wand. "Go ahead. I'm ready."_

_Hermione glared at him, then turned around and started walking away._

"_Don't you walk away from us," she heard Draco say._

"_Try and stop me, then."_

"_Locomotor Mortis!" Draco said._

_Hermione's legs locked together, and she grabbed onto a nearby door handle for support. She heard Zabini cackling and flushed, whipping her wand out._

"_Finite Incantatem," she muttered._

_Then she whirled around, livid. Draco had a playful grin on his face, and she wanted to storm over to him and kiss him senseless. Instead, she pointed her wand at his bag._

"_Wingardium Leviosa!" she said with a swish and a flick._

_The bag floated up in front of Draco._

"_There. Happy?"_

"_Oh, I don't know. What do you think, Blaise? Don't you think an apology is in order?"_

"_Don't test me, boys," said Hermione._

"_You may have better grades than me, but you don't have all that much dueling experience," said Zabini._

"_Do you really think so? Care to try me?"_

_Before Zabini could respond, she had pointed her wand at him and thought, _Levicorpus!

_Zabini was hoisted into the air by his ankles, dropping his wand in the process._

"_Expelliarmus!" said Draco, and Hermione's wand flew out of her hand._

"_You Disarmed her? You're supposed to hex her!" said Zabini, vainly struggling to get down._

_Hermione couldn't help but laugh at the sight as she walked toward Draco to retrieve her wand._

_Draco looked at her with perfectly studied disdain. "For Mudblood scum like her? She's not worth it." He pointed his wand at Zabini and said, "Liberacorpus."_

_Zabini was set back down on his feet._

_Hermione had reached Draco by then and held out her hand, palm up. "Give me back my wand."_

"_Granger, I'm surprised. I thought you and all your goody-goody friends would be so much more polite."_

"_Draco Malfoy, give me back my wand."_

"_Why don't you try saying the magic word?" said Draco._

_As he spoke those words, Harry and Ron rounded the corner._

"_Malfoy, get away from her!" Harry shouted._

"_She was the one who came over here," said Draco. "We were just leaving."_

_He turned to leave, and Hermione grabbed his arm. He immediately pulled it back._

"_Don't touch me, you filthy little—"_

"_DON'T!" Ron cried, pointing his wand at Draco._

_Instead of being intimidated, Draco looked at Ron with an amused expression. "Be careful there, Weaselbee. You don't want to be belching slugs for the next hour and a half."_

_Harry pushed Ron's wand arm down._

"_That's right," said Zabini. "Be a good dog and listen to your master."_

_Harry held Ron back when he started to charge at Zabini. "He'll get what's coming to him eventually, just not right now."_

_Hermione and Draco had locked eyes, sharing a moment while their friends were adequately distracted._

_Zabini laughed. "And what's coming to me? If anyone should be worried about what's coming, it should be Mud—"_

_Ron's beet-red face seemed to get even redder. "SHUT YOUR MOUTH!"_

"_Ronald, calm down!" said Hermione._

_Zabini had pointed his wand at Ron with a wicked grin, but Draco put a hand on his friend's arm._

"_Blaise, forget it. Weren't you going to go see Snape in a few minutes?" he asked. When Zabini raised his eyebrows, Draco added, "I can handle a few righteous Gryffindor kittens on my own."_

"_Piss off, Malfoy," said Harry._

_Zabini turned to head toward the dungeons._

"_Oh no, you don't! You're not going anywhere!" yelled Ron, finally shoving Harry away from him._

_Ron raced toward Zabini, who turned and ran around the corner. Harry chased after both of them. Hermione reached over and took her wand out of Draco's hand._

_As soon as the boys had disappeared around the corner, Hermione grabbed Draco by the lapels and pulled him into a quick kiss. She'd been on the verge of jumping him right in front of Harry, Ron, and Zabini, and if she didn't get to kiss him soon, she thought she'd die._

_Then she pulled back and whispered, "We should probably follow them."_

_Draco rubbed her arms gently. "Yes, we probably should." He gave her arms a light squeeze._

_Then they both took off down the hall to catch up with their friends. They found them hurling hexes at each other on a staircase leading down to the Great Hall. Draco stopped Hermione before she went around the corner, pushing her back. They both peeked around to watch. Then Draco flicked his wand, and horns started sprouting from Ron's head._

_Ron spun around, but Draco and Hermione had ducked behind the wall again. "COME OUT!" they heard Ron roar._

_Draco and Hermione were both fighting hard not to laugh, but when a group of Ravenclaw girls rounded the corner and started walking in their direction, Hermione shoved Draco away from her and pointed her wand at him. Before she could fire a spell, she heard Professor Snape's voice ring out loudly._

"_What's this ruckus?"_

Hermione smiled. They'd each received a week's worth of detention scrubbing cauldrons in the dungeons. She missed the days when everything had been so simple for her. It'd just been a fight against Voldemort, a fight to help Harry end the war and save the world. Now, she felt consumed by hatred for someone she'd once considered to be one of her best friends.

These thoughts weren't conducive to sleep. She'd consistently had trouble sleeping lately, and the only thing that seemed to work for her was to think of Draco. She let her mind wander, choosing another moment to relive.

_Harry had gone into the maze ages ago, and Hermione was really beginning to worry; the entire crowd was restless, no matter whom they supported._

_She saw red sparks and prayed that they weren't from Harry. Professor McGonagall disappeared into the maze toward the sparks._

_Soon, they learned that Fleur Delacour had dropped out._

_Hermione's eyes swept over the stands and rested on a particular blond boy. She blinked in surprise when she realized that he was staring at her too. She was even more surprised when he didn't look away upon being caught, continuing to stare right at her._

_She looked away, turning her attention to the maze._

_A moment later, she tapped Ron's shoulder. "I have to go to the restroom. I'll be right back."_

"_All right," said Ron, still watching the maze anxiously._

_Hermione slipped out of the stands and went around to the temporary bathrooms that had been magicked into existence behind the Quidditch pitch, where the maze had been set up. The line was too long, so she moved swiftly toward the castle._

_She didn't really have to go to the restroom, but she did want to be alone for a while. She didn't know how long the third task would take, but she didn't want to stay where Draco—no, Malfoy!—could see her._

_She went into the castle and located the nearest girls' bathroom._

_After splashing water on her face, she looked up at the mirror to see the reflection of him standing behind her._

_Her body reacted before her mind, and she screamed._

"_I'm not that repulsive, am I?"_

"_You startled me," said Hermione, starting to turn around._

_His arms ensnared her from behind, and he rested his head in the crook of her neck, looking at the pair of them in the mirror._

"_We make a beautiful couple. My face more than makes up for your bushy hair."_

"_Let go of me, Malfoy."_

"_Why do you have to make me fight for you every time? You know you're enjoying these little escapades as much as I am."_

"_Am not," said Hermione._

_Still, she gasped as he tugged the collar of her shirt to the side and dragged his mouth from her shoulder up her neck to her jaw._

"_Oh, really?" Malfoy breathed into her ear, making her shudder._

"_You're vile."_

_His mouth closed around her earlobe, and she almost melted._

"_How many times has it been now? You shouldn't make me win you over every time, Hermione. It's not fair, you know."_

_She only shuddered. His hands were now traveling up her stomach under her shirt. She closed her eyes and let herself enjoy the feeling of his smooth, large hands against her skin. He stopped sliding them up just below her breasts._

"_I should go back soon—the Third Task…"_

"_I'll make it quick, then," said Malfoy._

_He spun her around in his arms, and his lips descended on hers in a kiss that curled her toes and made her mind blissfully blank._

_The next thing she knew, she was pressed up against a wall, and he was positioning himself at her entrance. When had he removed their underwear?_

_Hermione cried out as he began pounding into her. She sank her fingernails into his shoulders through the shirt. Her whole world was shaking. She was moaning loudly over his soft grunts, unable to stop the sounds ripping out of her throat._

_Suddenly, he stopped, and Hermione huffed in disapproval. He started to say something, but she lifted her leg up, hooked it around his firm behind, and pulled him back inside her._

"_Fuck!" Malfoy groaned._

_Losing control over his movements, he began slamming into her again, both of them panting and moaning louder and louder until finally reaching their release._

_Malfoy pulled out of her, but they stayed up against the wall for a long minute, catching their breath._

"_Four," Hermione said softly, when her breaths had evened out. "It's been four times."_

"_I know."_

_His lips pressed against hers gently, but she turned her head._

"_Malfoy, I really should go."_

"_Call me Draco."_

_Hermione shook her head. She hadn't ever called him Draco to his face, but she'd almost referred to him by his given name a few nights ago during a conversation with Harry in the common room. Close call…_

"_You didn't seem to have a problem screaming it a minute ago."_

_Hermione's cheeks reddened. She didn't even know that her mouth had been forming words._

_He laughed lightly. "Are you embarrassed?"_

_Hermione tried to glare up at him, but his smiling face made it almost impossible for her to be angry._

"_Oh, let go of me," she said._

_Draco grinned. "All right, fine."_

_He backed away from her and pulled up his boxers and pants. She picked her underwear up off the floor._

"_How am I supposed to wear these now?"_

"_Are you a witch or not?" said Draco. He raised his wand. "Scourgify."_

_Hermione pulled them back on and readjusted her skirt, cheeks red again. "I just—"_

"_I'm just teasing you. But we do need to talk. Don't tell me that you're not enjoying this."_

_Hermione sighed and put her arms around his neck. His hands circled gently around her waist, staying respectfully above her bottom._

"_It's so wrong," said Hermione._

"_Yeah, but you know you like it."_

_Hermione smiled. "Guilty as charged."_

_She lifted herself up on tiptoe and planted a light kiss on his lips._

"_Next time, if you play hard to get, I'm going to punish you," Draco threatened with a small smile._

_Hermione just shook her head. "I'll worry about that next time. Let's go."_

"_You go ahead. I'll follow later—less suspicious that way."_

_She nodded and kissed him again before hurrying out of the bathroom._

_The entrance hall was still empty when she emerged, and she exited the castle, moving swiftly across the grounds toward the Quidditch pitch. Judging from the relative quiet, there hadn't been a winner yet. Just as she reached the stands, people started shouting. She quickly located Ron._

"_Bloody hell, what took you so long?"_

"_What's going on?" she asked him, avoiding the question._

"_They just found Krum—he was under the Imperius Curse!"_

_Hermione's eyes widened. "How do you know?"_

"_Oh, come off it. Mad-Eye had us practicing with the Imperius Curse long enough. I recognize that look in his eyes."_

_Ron passed Hermione his binoculars, and she gasped when she saw a glazed look in the Bulgarian Quidditch star._

"_I hope Harry's okay," she said as she handed the binoculars back to Ron._

_She glanced up at the place where Draco had been before and saw him pushing some younger spectators out of the way, laughing as he made a joke with Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini and Nott._

_God, she wasn't really falling for _that_ boy, was she?_

_Even as she asked herself the question, she knew the answer._

* * *

**Author's Note:** Please review! Reading reviews, good or bad, makes my day :)


	13. XII Emotionally Attached

**XII. Emotionally Attached**

_Hermione flipped over again and groaned._

_She'd been tossing and turning for at least an hour. She couldn't stop thinking about what had happened._

_Lord Voldemort had come back to life. She believed Harry entirely—there was no reason not to. If he said that the Dark Lord had risen and murdered Cedric Diggory, then it had to be the truth. It was so hard to believe that one of her classmates had really died. It made Voldemort seem so much more substantial to her, more real. It was as if she'd been in denial that he'd existed, as though she hadn't really understood what it would mean for him to return. At least, not until one of her classmates lay on the ground, eyes still wide open._

_She had caught a glimpse of him before they ushered all the students back, and now she couldn't rid her mind of that image. It filled her head every time she closed her mind, and she was terrified. What would happen to her if she saw Harry or Ron like that? She'd never felt more worried for Harry's life._

_She rolled over again and clutched the covers tightly to her._

_How could any of the others sleep? She could hear Lavender's light snoring on her right and Fay Dunbar's even breathing on her left._

_Frustrated, she sat up and looked at the drapes hanging around her four-poster bed. She pushed them aside and put her legs down over the side, sliding her feet into her slippers. The other drapes were unmoving, and the room was quiet._

_She walked out of her bedroom and into the empty Gryffindor Common Room. She stared at the dying embers in the fireplace._

_She was scared for the future. If Voldemort was alive, then all Muggle-borns were especially in danger. That meant her. As much as she'd reassured Ron that she wasn't afraid, she was terrified. Harry had been in too much shock to think about Hermione's blood status._

_Suddenly she felt like she had to escape. Even though she was already alone, she felt like she couldn't get away from images of Harry and Ron and all the others watching from the couches. She exited the common room through the portrait hole, earning several complaints from a disgruntled Fat Lady._

_She wandered the dark hallways aimlessly and soundlessly, not bothering to light her wand. It didn't matter that Filch prowled the hallways at night and would love to give her a detention. After seeing the face of a dead classmate, detentions seemed so unimportant, so insignificant._

_Then she heard footsteps and stopped walking, turning to back up silently against the wall. Maybe whoever it was would just pass right by._

_No such luck._

"_Lumos."_

_A bit of light glowed from the tip of a wand._

"_Malfoy?"_

_He scowled. "Forgot my name already, Hermione?" he asked pointedly._

_She looked down, avoiding his eyes. "Malfoy, I really don't think we should keep this up," she mumbled._

"_Why would you want to end something like this?" he asked, stepping closer to her._

"_And what exactly do you think this is?"_

"_What do _you_ think it is? It's magic."_

_Hermione shook her head. "Magic? Merlin, either I heard you wrong, or you've gone mad. It—the first time never should have happened. You shouldn't have—"_

"_Me? If I remember correctly, you asked for it. You jumped me."_

_She glared at him. "I did not!" she hissed. "You worked me up into it."_

"_You could have walked away. I completely intended to leave you in that room," he said. "But you made me stay. And now that I've had you, you're not going anywhere. You're mine. You got that?"_

"_I'm not yours," she spat._

"_Hermione, Hermione. We just had a breakthrough earlier today. Didn't I tell you I'd punish you if you played hard to get again?"_

"_I'm not," said Hermione. "Voldemort—he's back. I just don't—"_

"_How does his return affect anything between us?"_

_She stared at him. "How does it _not_ affect us?"_

"_We're kids. I doubt he cares about two kids fucking around."_

"_Your father—he's a Death Eater, wasn't he? I'm on Harry's side. We can't—"_

_Malfoy let his wand clatter to the ground, still lit, and put his hand over her mouth. He was right in front of her now._

"_Why are you out so late, my good Gryffindor girl?" he asked, changing the subject._

"_I couldn't sleep. Look, Malfoy, I—"_

_He shook his head. "Why couldn't you sleep?"_

_She sighed._

"_Let me guess," he said when she didn't reply. "You're scared because you're a Muggle-born."_

_She shook her head but didn't say anything._

"_Hermione, look at me."_

_She kept her eyes on the ground, but he placed his fingers under her chin and tilted her face up. Her eyes found his, and the image before her took her breath away._

_She hadn't looked so closely at his face before. Even the previous times when they'd been intimate, she hadn't paid so much attention to his eyes. They were dark grey at the moment, swirling deep pools of grey. She found that she couldn't look away. She was sinking in, unable to pull herself out. Then she realized, fearfully, that she didn't _want_ to pull herself out anymore._

"_Merlin, save me," she breathed._

"_Trust me. Nothing can happen to you. We're at Hogwarts, after all. Don't be afraid."_

_She blinked. "Why are you trying to comfort me?"_

"_Because you won't be as good a shag if you're moping," he said, smirking._

_She glared at him._

"_What, you don't honestly think I care about you, do you?"_

"_Of course I don't. I'm trying to find out why you're doing this," said Hermione. "After hating me for almost four whole years, it's impossible that you'd actually care about me."_

_Draco's smirk faded. "What if I said I do? Would that scare you?"_

"_I wouldn't believe you."_

_He shrugged. "I don't blame you. I wouldn't believe me either."_

_They stood in silence for a while. She started to move to the side to get away from him, but he placed his hands on the wall on either side of her head, trapping her._

"_Malfoy, let me go."_

"_No."_

_She sighed. "Please? I just want to go back to Gryffindor Tower and get to bed."_

"_Why? You won't be able to sleep anyway. Why waste your time tossing and turning when you could be here, with me?"_

_He ground his hips gently against her, and she felt a familiar heat building between her legs._

_She pulled out her wand and held it up between them, slanted toward him. "Malfoy, don't make me hex you."_

"_You know, it hurts my feelings when my girl refuses to call me by my name."_

"_I'm _not_ yours," said Hermione. "Now get away from me, before I hex you."_

_He grinned. "You wouldn't. I know you, Hermione. If you were going to hex me, you would've done it already. You don't really want me to leave. I know what you want."_

_Before she could retort, his lips pressed against hers, and her eyes fluttered shut. She had had a hex in mind before, but what was it? She welcomed the mind-numbing sensation that filled her up and slipped her tongue out to taste his lips. She was aware of his hand resting gently on hers. It slipped up and pulled her wand out of her hand, letting it fall to the ground._

_He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against hers. She opened her eyes to see his hovering only a few centimeters away. They were a smoky grey, clouded with lust._

"_Hermione," he whispered, "you can try to deny it all you want, but your body knows that it's mine."_

_She shuddered as his hands ran down her sides, following her light curves._

"_Things… they've changed since earlier today," she said quietly. "We can't do this anymore, Malfoy."_

_He nibbled at her neck, and she trembled as sinful desire blossomed in her chest. She wanted him again. She felt wetness growing between her legs and hated herself for responding that way. This was the son of a Death Eater—Harry had seen Malfoy Sr. at the graveyard that night._

"_Please stop," she pleaded in a tortured whisper._

_He started unbuttoning her pajama shirt, his lips trailing down her neck to her collarbone._

"_Stop me, then," he retorted between kisses._

_His breath was hot on her skin, and she couldn't breathe normally. She bit her lip and placed her hands on his shoulders with the intention of pushing him away. But she didn't want the feeling to end. She didn't want to be alone. Maybe she could just… just one last time…_

_She let her hands run across his broad shoulders, and then brought them up to stroke his silky hair. He groaned in approval, his lips moving farther downward. She tugged his head up and kissed him fiercely, letting out all of her frustration and fear in that kiss. She ravaged his mouth, and he seemed taken aback by her aggression, backing up slightly. She stepped forward, her hands fisted in his hair, making sure that their lips stayed connected._

"_Her—mm—" he tried to speak around her tongue._

_She backed up for a second._

"_Malfoy, stop talking before I change my mind. Now kiss me," she said seductively._

_If he was surprised by her sudden change of heart, he didn't show it, attacking her lips with his. She stripped him of his shirt, craving the feel of his smooth skin under her fingertips. She broke their kiss and slid her lips along his jaw, down his neck, to his chest._

"_Hermione, we should get in a room or something. Filch might—"_

_Hermione bit down on his left pectoral and sucked, and he gasped, cutting himself off midsentence. She licked the bite mark and backed up to look at him. He stooped and picked up his shirt and their wands before shoving her toward a room a bit farther down the hall._

_She held the door open for him and then closed and locked it. She turned around to see him not even an inch away from her, and she backed into the door, surprised. His hands finished unbuttoning her pajama top and pushed it off her shoulders while his lips and tongue kept her amply distracted._

_This was blissful. How could it be wrong to want a heavenly feeling like this?_

_She sucked on his lower lip and loved the desperate groan that ripped out of his throat. He wanted her as much as she wanted him._

_If she was his, then he was hers._

_Then he pressed up against her, letting her feel his obvious arousal, and she was suddenly in a hurry to get both of them out of their clothes. She removed her bra and took off her panties and pajama bottoms together. He kicked off his shoes and socks and then took off his pants._

_She pulled him close to kiss him as he removed his boxers and tossed them to the side. His hands caressed her sides, and she pressed up against him, reveling in the heat that coursed through her when her bare chest came into contact with his. Her wetness was already dripping down her legs, and she hitched one of them around his waist to pull him closer to her._

_He gasped when her wet center pressed against the tip of his cock, and she grinned, swirling her hips around a bit to tease him._

_He growled and lifted her other leg, wrapping it around his waist. Then he thrust into her, and she cried out in ecstasy._

"_Oh god—yes—yes—yes!" she cried, throwing her head back as he picked up the pace._

_This time felt more intense than the times before, maybe because they were both completely naked for the first time. She felt her breasts bouncing up and down, brushing against his chest as he thrust into her repeatedly. She couldn't stop her cries of pleasure. She didn't care anymore whether or not they got caught—this was so, so worth it._

"_Fuck, Granger. Just come already," he grunted in a strained voice, reaching one hand down to rub her clit as he continued to shove into her. "I don't think—I can last—"_

_Then tremors shook her whole body as she flew over the edge, and she let out a scream that drowned out his words. He shouted as he reached his release, and she felt herself convulsing around him, milking out his seed._

_He was panting, trying to catch his breath, hair plastered to his forehead by sweat. He still had her pressed up against the wall, still hadn't pulled out of her. She lifted her hands from around him to brush the hair away from his face, and then she leaned forward slightly to kiss his lips softly._

"_Thank you," she murmured._

_She looked at his eyes and saw confusion. "What do you mean?" he asked._

"_I… I don't know," said Hermione._

_He smirked. "Still think we shouldn't do this anymore?"_

"_This was the last time," she said firmly._

"_You think you can go on without ever feeling that anymore?"_

_She could already feel doubt growing in her mind, but she was determined not to let him break down her resolve._

"_Yes, I can."_

_Then she inadvertently shifted her hips a little and felt him hardening again inside her._

_He groaned. "Bloody hell. You can't possibly not want this."_

_His hips surged forward and she felt herself getting wetter with desire again. He was fully erect again already._

_She bit back a moan._

_He leaned forward and breathed in her ear, "Do you really want it to be over? Really? If you say yes, I'll go right now."_

_He traced the shell of her ear with his tongue and she shuddered._

"_What's it gonna be?"_

_His hips rocked against hers again, and her breath caught in her throat._

"_Malfoy, honestly. We can't possibly—"_

"_Just tell me. Do you want me to leave right now or not?"_

_She turned her head away. She didn't want to give in, but he was right. There was something about the feelings that she had when they were together that she didn't want to lose. She felt as though no one else would ever be able to pleasure her the way he did._

_He shifted again, more urgently this time, and she gasped._

"_Stay," she whispered, even as her mind screamed for her to tell him to leave._

_His face lit up, and their lips met. He pulled out of her, and she whined in disappointment. He backed away from the door, her legs still wrapped around his waist, and carried her over to a desk, setting her down on top of it._

"_Malfoy, we need to—" she began, but when he shoved back into her, her brains were effectively scrambled._

"_We can talk later," he grunted, thrusting into her again._

_She could only nod in reply._

_A few minutes later, they both lay on the ground of the classroom. He was on his back, and she lay partially on his chest, resting her head on his shoulder. Her left hand was flat on his bare chest. Their breathing fell into the same rhythm, and she felt like she'd never been that peaceful before._

_Just as she thought she was going to fall asleep, Malfoy spoke._

"_This is not going to end here," he said._

"_No," she whispered. "No, it's not."_

_He replied, satisfied, "Good."_

"_We should establish some rules, though."_

"_I'm listening."_

"_Well… obviously, no one can know about this."_

_He chuckled and agreed, "Obviously."_

"_We… we can't fall for each other," she said._

_Draco smirked. "Nothing to worry about on my side. No way I'd fall for a Mudblood. You're just a good fuck. Don't get it in your head that there's anything else."_

_She gritted her teeth. "I could still leave now."_

"_No, you couldn't."_

_She hated that he was right. Instead of retorting, she continued, "So, we can't get emotionally attached. We have to figure out a way to meet up. You can't just catch me off-guard like this."_

"_Spontaneity is great."_

"_But I—well I won't be wandering around in the dark often."_

"_I know. We'll have to come up with something."_

"_Actually… we're leaving Hogwarts in a few days. Maybe we should just…"_

"_What? Let this end? You don't want to pick this up next year?" Malfoy asked._

"_I… I…"_

_She pounded his chest once with her fist._

"_I hate you."_

_He laughed. "I hate you, too. Believe me."_

_He lifted her hand and started kissing each of her fingertips, sending shivers up her arm._

"_I just can't seem to leave you alone, though," he added when his lips left her thumb and he replaced her hand on his chest._

"_We probably won't have time to meet again before summer holiday," said Hermione._

_She felt a pang of disappointment in her chest and frowned at herself. Here she was, lying with the son of a Death Eater, feeling disappointed that she wouldn't be able to shag him over the summer. She needed to be checked into a mental facility. Maybe they could send her to St. Mungo's._

"_No, probably not."_

_He suddenly shifted and rolled over so that he was on top of her, and she looked up at him, eyes wide with surprise._

"_We should get busy then, so we'll be able to last a couple months."_

"_But Malfoy—" Hermione began, but she stopped when his eyes narrowed, discontent. "Draco, then." He appeared satisfied. "Draco, we should get back to our rooms."_

"_My mates are all asleep. They won't wake till morning. Bit of sleeping potion took care of that."_

"_But my roommates—"_

"_Just forget everything. Right now, it's just you and me. We're the only two people in the world. And we've got all the time we need."_

"_Draco, honestly—"_

_His lips crashed down on hers, and she clamped her mouth shut, refusing to give in so easily. She wasn't quite finished listing rules… but then again, she couldn't think of anything else to add. His hands explored her body, becoming familiar with her soft curves. She gasped when he started rubbing one of her nipples, and his tongue slipped into her mouth. As soon as she tasted his tongue, her control fell apart. She squirmed under his touch and began exploring his body as he was hers._

_He dropped his head so that his lips hovered by her ear and whispered words that sent chills through her._

"_I'm never going to let you go. You'll never be rid of me."_

Hermione slowly opened her eyes and remembered that he was gone. Oh, how she wished that she could never be rid of him. But he was gone, and she was still here.

She hated sinking into memories about him, hated tricking herself into feeling that he was still there. But she couldn't stop, because it was the only way she could hear his voice, feel his touch, see his face.

Luna was still lying in bed, breathing peacefully. Hermione sat up slowly and noted that Ginny had already left for work. She crawled out of bed and got dressed, then packed up her knapsack.

When she opened her bedroom door, Blaise was already standing on her landing, waiting for her.

"Why didn't you wake me?" she asked.

"You took a long time to fall asleep last night, so I figured I'd give you some extra time."

"I thought I gave you orders to go to sleep."

"Well, I couldn't fall asleep. I was trying, I promise."

Hermione shook her head and silently led the way downstairs. They exited Grimmauld Place, and she was suddenly at a loss. Would they just go straight to the Manor from here?

"Is there anywhere you want to stop before we report to Bellatrix?" Blaise asked, as though he'd read her mind.

"I… no. Let's just go."

"Let me take you. I don't want you to splinch yourself."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him but didn't protest as he gripped her arm tightly and Disapparated. They reappeared in a small living room, and she jerked her head to the right to glare at him.

"Why are we _here?_" she demanded.

"It's where you wanted to go, isn't it?"

She hated how he could read her like a book. "Blaise, please don't do this to me."

He frowned. "What am I doing to you?"

She just shook her head and moved to sit down on the couch. He took a few steps toward her, stopping in front of her.

"Hermione?" he prodded gently.

"I don't _know_ what you're doing to me, but it has to stop," she whispered.

Blaise sat down next to her, and she started to shift away from him, but he looped an arm around her and pulled her into his arms.

"Calm down. You're just tired."

"No, I'm not," she protested.

But she did feel tired, even after a full night's sleep. She felt too tired to push him away, too frazzled to focus on anything—he'd been right to take her by Side-Along Apparition.

"Hermione, maybe you should stop worrying about revenge. Don't start arguing with me yet, just listen. I've known Draco for a very long time and I know he'd want Potter dead for killing him. But he really loved you. And I know better than pretty much anyone that he'd rather see you happy than stressed out over something like revenge."

"Well, the thing is, he _can't_ see me anymore, so it wouldn't make a difference," said Hermione.

"You don't know that," Blaise said softly. "You don't know what happens after death. What if he _does_ still see you?"

"It's not like _you_ know what happens after death."

"Fine, fine. I don't want to get into an argument about what's on the other side of the veil. But don't you think you should do what he would have wanted you to do?"

"You don't even know whether or not he wanted me to get revenge." She paused before adding, "Why are you trying to persuade me to give up on revenge, anyway? I thought you hated Harry and Ron. I thought _you_ wanted revenge, too."

"Again, I'm doing what Draco would have wanted me to do. And the last thing he told me to do was to take care of you. That means your happiness is more important than killing anyone, even if it _is_ Potter. Besides, he is—or at least, he _was_—your best friend. Don't you think there's at least a tiny part of you that is still concerned about him?"

Hermione placed both of her palms flat against his chest and pushed, and he finally released her. She immediately stood up and backed a few steps away from the couch, away from _him_.

"I'm sorry. If you really want to keep—"

"You don't understand, Blaise," she said quietly. "The only thing that's been keeping me going is the thought that once Voldemort is dead, the war will be over. And I'll be free to get my revenge. That's one of the only things that's holding me up. He may have been my best friend, but don't tell me to forgive him. He _killed_ Draco."

Blaise bolted to his feet, and Hermione didn't have to use the connection between them to tell that she'd hit a nerve.

"_Forgive_ him? _Forgive_ the bloody bastard? I _know_ he killed Draco. Draco wasn't just your lover, he was my best mate! I'm telling you not to worry about it because I care about what Draco would have wanted! Do you honestly think I _want _to stand in that dingy old kitchen and listen to him giving orders? If I had my way, Potter would be _dead_ already!"

Hermione took another step back from him and turned away. "Let's just go. I don't want to fight."

"Oh, now you're running away again. Typical."

"Typical? When have I ever run away?" she demanded, turning back to face him.

"You're _always_ running away, Hermione."

It looked like he wanted to say more, but he clenched his jaw and stopped himself.

"What? What were you going to say? Just spit it out so we can get this over with."

"No. Let's go."

"That was a command."

Blaise glared at her, but the words left his mouth against his will. "At first, when Bellatrix told us we wouldn't be working together, I actually felt disappointed. But now I think that it'd probably be better for us if we worked apart for a while."

"You know what? I think you're right. I'm sick of seeing your face every single day."

"Oh, yeah? You think _you've_ got it bad? I see your face every time I fucking _close my eyes_."

Hermione looked at him in disbelief. "You—what?"

"Yeah, that's right. I can't do _anything_ without being reminded that I _belong_ to you. Do you have any idea what that feels like?"

"You're not lying, are you?"

"Do I _look_ like I'm lying?"

Hermione took a deep breath. She hadn't noticed much of a difference in their connection, but it must have been because she was the owner. She had no idea what kind of an effect the potion had had on Blaise, and he'd only said that not much had changed. She must not have said specifically to tell the truth when she asked him—she'd learned over the past few months that if she didn't give a specific command, he could glaze over details.

She turned to look at him, but he'd walked over to the window, looking at the designs on the curtain.

"Blaise… I'm sorry."

He shook his head but didn't turn to face her when he replied. "I shouldn't have lost control like that," he said in a subdued voice. "Let's just go to the Manor—forget what I said."

"No Blaise, I mean it. I'm sorry. But you should have told—"

"And what good would that have done, telling you? You felt guilty enough already, and it's not your fault _they_ have a sick sense of humor. I didn't want to—I shouldn't have—forget it. Just forget it."

She walked over to him, but he still didn't turn to face her. She stepped in front of him and tried to catch his attention, but his eyes were avoiding hers.

"Blaise, look at me."

He sighed, and finally his eyes met hers.

A flash of grey.

Hermione jumped and backed into the window.

"Bloody hell!" Blaise exclaimed, grabbing her arms in case she jumped again. "What's gotten into you?"

She was staring at him, wide-eyed, but those eyes were clearly brown. Very, very clearly brown. She was going mad. That was the only explanation.

"What's wrong, Hermione? Tell me. You're scaring me."

"N—nothing," she muttered.

She tried to shrug his hands off her arms, but his grip tightened.

"I can tell something's wrong. You're obviously upset."

"I'm not _upset_," said Hermione, sighing. "I'm just… just what you said. Tired. Let's just report to Bellatrix and get it over with."

Maybe it _would_ be best to get away from Blaise for a while. She missed Draco so much, but it wasn't right, projecting him onto Blaise.

Blaise sighed and released her, walking away from the window. "Yeah, all right. Let's go."

She felt a stab of disappointment that he'd given in so easily. Then, as though he'd felt it too—and she realized with a jolt that with their connection, he probably _had_—he turned back around to face her.

"I don't understand you," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"When I try to show you that I care about you, you get frustrated and upset, and you start running away. But then when I decide to let you deal with it on your own, you're… disappointed." He shook his head. "I don't know what you want."

Hermione looked down. "I don't really know either," she mumbled.

Then his hands pulled her to him, and he held her to his chest.

"Just let me take care of you, Hermione," he said softly. "Let me share all your suffering, all your worries. Don't bottle it up inside. It's going to drive you nuts."

"Nuttier than I am now?" Hermione joked.

"Funny as that is, I'm being serious."

"Blaise, I can't."

"I'm not asking for you to be my girlfriend. I just—"

"That's not—it's not your problem. I can't seem to stop…" she let her voice fade away.

"Stop what?"

She shook her head and started to push him away, but his arms tightened around her, crushing her to his chest. She closed her eyes and felt like he was everywhere—his scent invaded her nose, the sound of his heartbeat filled her ears. It shouldn't have felt so good to be held by him like that.

"Hermione, I know already. I don't understand why you can't just tell me."

"You—what do you think you know?" she mumbled against his chest.

"That sometimes, when you look at me, you see him."

She thought her heart had stopped. He _did_ know. How long had he known?

"Hermione, it's okay. I don't care. It doesn't matter how you see me. All that matters is that I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

She couldn't trust her voice anymore. _What are you trying to say?_

"Nothing more than I've already said," he murmured. "I will be here for you, Hermione. And not just because Draco said so. Because I want to be."

_But that isn't fair to you._

"That only matters if it matters to you. I already told you—I don't care."

_Blaise, I don't think—_

Blaise sighed. "Hermione, please don't fight me on this. It's my choice whether or not I want to be there for you. Whether you own me or not, you can't tell me whether or not to care about you. You can't control my emotions."

His words hung in the silence between them.

When she felt she could speak again, Hermione said, "Let go of me."

His arms fell away from her. She took a step back.

"Let's go to the Manor now," she said.

There was no doubt that that was an order.

"At least let me take you there," said Blaise.

She nodded, and he took her hand. She ignored the tingles that shot up her arm at his touch. This had to stop.

A few minutes later, they were standing in the study at the Manor; a house elf had let them in.

Bellatrix appeared in the doorway.

"Well, that was quicker than I'd expected. The Dark Lord will be here any moment now. He will give you both direct orders this time."

She swept back out of the room.

_You feel really sad right now_, Blaise observed. _It's bringing me down too, you know._

Hermione didn't respond.

_You don't have to talk to me, but please don't be so sad._

_Stop talking to me_.

He was silent, and she glanced over at him to see that he'd turned away from her. Just as she was about to apologize, the door swung open, and Voldemort glided in.

"Granger, how _nice_ it is, to see you again," he said.

Hermione knelt. "It's been a while, My Lord."

"Stand, both of you."

She and Blaise got back to their feet.

"How can we serve you?" Hermione asked.

"I am leaving on a short trip, and I am taking with me a… companion. Unfortunately, you will have to stay behind," said Voldemort.

Hermione nodded.

"Why are you choosing me?" Blaise asked.

"Do not question me," said Voldemort curtly. "Granger, you are to stay here and follow orders from Bellatrix."

"Yes, My Lord."

"Good. Boy, follow me."

Blaise followed him toward the exit silently.

Voldemort paused by the door. "Granger, I don't doubt that you've already discovered and used extensively the bond between you and your slave."

Hermione had to resist flinching when he said the word.

"On this mission," he continued, "you are not to communicate with him. I will be monitoring his mind. Do not disobey me."

Hermione nodded. "I won't, My Lord."

Voldemort left the room, and Blaise followed without a backward glance.

She watched him exit and wished that she had had a chance to apologize.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Please review! It makes me feel better :)


	14. XIII Training

**XIII. Training**

Bellatrix entered the study, smiling in anticipation.

"Let's start with someone easy, shall we?" she said.

Hermione nodded. She felt incapable of speech after watching Blaise leave like that. If only they could have parted on a better note… she didn't even know how long it would be before she could see him again.

"Come along, then."

Bellatrix led Hermione into the next room, which she recognized as the one that contained the staircase leading down to the dungeons. Hermione was told to wait at the top of the steps, and it bothered her that she couldn't enter. Then again, it was probably better that way. She would have had to see all her classmates caged up and injured… but still, it would be a relief to see who was still alive.

A moment later, the door at the bottom of the steps opened up, and Bellatrix appeared with a dark-skinned, shirtless man who had a bag over his head. It was hard to tell his age because she couldn't see his face, but from his physique, he seemed to be young—teens to early twenties. Hermione's eyes raked over his bare torso, taking in the scars that ran all over him. How long had he been imprisoned?

When they reached the top of the steps, Hermione backed away a bit to give them room, and Bellatrix gave the man a rough shove. He stumbled forward but didn't fall. She scowled and pointed her wand at him, forcing him onto his knees.

"I changed my mind," she said, giving Hermione a nasty smile. "Rather than let you stab in the dark, I'll just give you a… tutorial, first. No need for an easy one, in that case."

Hermione nodded. She still couldn't quite seem to find her voice. It'd been running off rather often lately, she observed to herself darkly.

"First, we ask them nicely if they've changed their minds."

Bellatrix touched the man's shoulder, and he jerked away.

"Now now, let's play nice today. We have an audience."

A muffled, hoarse voice came from behind the bag. "Answer's no. This time and every time. So stop asking and just get on with it."

Bellatrix smiled at Hermione again. "After that—"

Hermione held up a hand, interrupting her. "Just a minute—what exactly are we asking?"

"Oh, it seems I skipped over that point. Well, we're asking them to serve us, of course. You see, the Imperius Curse, as _handy_ as it may be, wears off, eventually. And people can learn to resist it after a long enough time. Now we can't have that, can we? Much better to have them pledge their lives to us when they're clear in the head."

She paused to smile, and Hermione decided that she really didn't like Bellatrix's smile.

"The Cruciatus Curse is my personal favorite," said Bellatrix as she conjured a knife, "but I know you don't have the stomach for it. So we'll start you off slow, give you little tools to play with."

She stepped over to the prisoner and placed the flat part of the blade against his shoulder.

He twitched and said, "Get on with it. I want to get back to my nap, you bitch."

Bellatrix only looked amused. "Always were a little tough guy, weren't you?"

She changed the angle of the blade and cut into his bicep. Blood flowed out of the wound, but his only response was a light hiss. Hermione bit her lip, wishing she could be anywhere else in the world. But she couldn't look away, not when Bellatrix had turned and fixed her eyes on Hermione's.

The knife stopped at his elbow, and Bellatrix waved her wand to stop the bleeding. The blood that had already escaped from the wound trickled down his arm.

"Be careful not to bleed them to death. They're no use to us dead," said Bellatrix. Then she grinned evilly. "So, little innocent schoolgirl, what's your favorite shape, hmm? Hearts or stars, or wizard's hats?"

"I don't have one," said Hermione.

"Pick one, then."

"A circle."

Bellatrix stepped over to Hermione and held out the knife.

"Draw me a circle," she commanded.

Hermione took the knife with a steady hand and walked over to the still-kneeling prisoner. Hearing her footsteps approach, he spoke up.

"Who are you, and why are you so special that Bellatrix herself is teaching you?"

"Ignore him," Bellatrix said before Hermione could reply.

She walked around to look at his back. Tons of long scars ran across his back. He'd been whipped countless times. She tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder. His skin was extremely hot, and she realized that he was probably struggling against the spell that Bellatrix had used to hold him in place. She placed the tip of the knife just below his right shoulder blade and pressed gently.

He hissed again and tensed up.

"Carve it in deeper. Go on. You're barely going to make a scratch like that," said Bellatrix, watching her closely.

Hermione gritted her teeth and sank it in maybe half an inch. Blood rushed out.

"That will do. Now draw."

Hermione bit her lip and started dragging the blade to the right. She hated the sight of all the blood gushing out of the wound that she was making. The metallic smell was so strong that she could almost taste it—and then she realized that she _did_ taste blood. She'd bitten down too hard on her lip, drawing some of her own blood.

She finished the circle as quickly as possible and withdrew the blade. Bellatrix examined it before waving her wand to help the blood clot.

"Well, it's a start," she said skeptically. She Vanished the knife and said, "Another fun tool to use is a sewing needle."

Hermione wondered when this would be over.

She watched as the witch conjured a small needle and reached down to take the prisoner's hand in hers, holding onto his thumb. His whole arm was straining with the effort of trying to resist her, but he was powerless under the spell. Hermione braced herself and watched as Bellatrix slowly inserted the needle just a tiny bit under his nail.

He cried out in pain.

Bellatrix looked extremely happy, and Hermione wanted to disappear. Bellatrix pushed the needle in a tiny bit farther, eliciting another cry of pain.

Trying to take her mind off the sight, Hermione asked, "How long do you usually go?"

"Oh, as long as I want. Minutes, hours, it doesn't matter. They have nothing better to do anyway."

She left the needle under his thumbnail and conjured another one for his forefinger. She shoved this one deep under his nail, and he screamed.

"Not so tough now, are we?" she taunted. "Oh, it breaks my heart to do this to one of my own. If you'd just join us—"

The prisoner laughed harshly. "That's the funniest thing I've heard all day. You have a heart?"

Bellatrix actually looked angry this time. She Vanished the needles and pointed her wand at him.

"Crucio!"

He shouted in pain but still couldn't move. His body started twitching as the pain urged him to move, to try to dodge the pain that seared through him. Hermione was grateful that his face was covered with a bag; she could imagine what the man's face looked like under the bag, contorted in pain.

Bellatrix lifted her wand. The prisoner was breathing loudly, raggedly. Bellatrix turned to Hermione.

"That will be all for now. You may look around the Manor—you probably want to see darling Draco's room," she said.

She snapped her fingers, and a house elf appeared.

"Take her to the young master's room, and show her what she wants to see around the Manor. She'll be staying at a guest room of her choice, so show her the options."

The house elf bowed low to the ground, and then straightened up and turned to Hermione.

"This way," she squeaked, walking out of the room.

As Hermione left the room, she heard renewed screaming, muffled by the now-closed door. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that there was nothing she could do about it.

"What's your name?" she asked the house elf.

Without slowing her pace, the house elf said, "W—why does Miss want to know Toory's name?"

"I wouldn't know what to call you otherwise. My name's Hermione."

"Hermione," Toory repeated.

Hermione nodded and started following Toory up a flight of stairs. "Toory, does that happen often?" she asked, gesturing behind them—she was sure Toory would know what she was talking about.

"Toory cannot speak ill of her masters," was the mumbled response. Then, as though to distract her guest, Toory asked, "Why does Miss Hermione want to see Young Master's room?"

"I was a friend of his," said Hermione.

They reached the top of the stairs, and Toory opened a door to the right.

Hermione's eyes were met with green and silver—the rug, his bedspread, furniture—everything was green, silver, or black. The room was arranged in a Victorian style, with huge flowing silver-green drapes hanging across one wall that Hermione assumed was spanned by windows. One of the walls was occupied almost completely by an enormous tapestry with the Slytherin crest embroidered on it.

She stepped into the room, the one that her Draco had grown up in. But it seemed strangely empty, probably because of how large it was. There wasn't much furniture—just a bed, armoire, and chest of drawers with a large mirror hanging above it.

Her eyes watered when they fell on the nightstand and saw a silver chain. When she walked within five feet of it, the emerald snake charm morphed into a golden lion. She took a few more steps and picked it up.

"Toory has never seen Young Master's necklace do that before," the house elf breathed from behind her. "But—but Miss Hermione should put it back. Young Master said never to touch it."

Hermione couldn't speak or move. Her mind flashed back to the day that she'd given it to him.

It had been cold, almost Christmastime, during her sixth and last year at Hogwarts. They'd agreed to sneak out to their private place in the Forbidden Forest, since they hadn't had a chance to go since the beginning of the year…

"_I've got something for you."_

_Draco frowned. "I thought we agreed never to give each other things. It's too risky—proof of something that's not supposed to exist. Remember?"_

"_At least look at it."_

"_No. You're not—"_

"_Please, Draco?" She leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss. "Please?"_

"_Oh, all right," he grumbled._

_She smiled._

"_You're not pulling that ever again, you got that?" he said sternly._

_Hermione laughed. "That's what you said last time."_

"_I… I did, didn't I?" he said. Then he shook his head. "Oh, shut up. Don't you have something to show me?"_

"_Yes, I do."_

_She reached into her pocket and pulled out a thin silver chain. Hanging on it was a small gold charm in the shape of a lion. She held it up to show him._

"_You've got to be kidding me," he said. "Honestly, don't you think that'd be a bit too obvious?"_

_She laughed again. "How thick do you think I am?"_

"_Not very. That's why I think you're joking."_

"_Here, hold it."_

"_I'm not keeping it."_

"_Just wait, Draco. A little patience, please?"_

"_Fine," he said, taking the charm from her._

_Hermione backed up a step._

"_Where are you going?" he asked._

"_Just wait," she repeated._

_She backed up a few more steps, and then stopped as she saw the charm transforming in his hand. He jumped in surprise, looking down at the changing color and shape. When the charm was motionless again, it had turned into a silver snake._

_Hermione started walking back over to Draco, and the charm transformed back into a gold lion._

"_Do you like it?" she asked. "It's the only one of its kind."_

"_Where… where did you find it?"_

"_It was actually quite easy to find. It was the _spell_ that was tricky."_

_Draco looked up at her, a small smile on his face. She would never, ever get tired of looking at him._

"_Aw, I should have known you could do a spell like this," he said._

"_I spent a long time looking for it and then some more time practicing. So don't you _dare_ say that you don't want it."_

"_I _do_ want it. You couldn't take it back from me if you wanted to," said Draco, smiling._

_He put the chain around his neck, and Hermione reached up to finger the small lion charm. Then she tucked it under his shirt—it'd be safer to keep it out of sight, even if it was a snake, just in case they came into contact with other people around._

"_Now you'll always know if I'm close by," she whispered._

"_I don't think I need a silly necklace to know when you're close to me," he replied._

_He pulled her into an embrace and their lips met._

"_But I'll wear it, for you."_

_She smiled. "You'd better."_

_He smirked. "You'll never see me without it."_

She remembered thinking about how awful it'd be to see him without the necklace. Now, she knew that seeing the necklace without the wearer was far, far worse.

"Miss Hermione?" Toory prodded.

Hermione wondered how long she'd been standing there.

"Oh, Toory, I'm so sorry. I just—"

"Miss Hermione should put that down. Young Master said—"

"When did he take it off?" Hermione asked.

Toory squeaked. "Toory shouldn't tell. Toory can't tell."

"Please, Toory. I just want to know."

"Toory can't say. Young Master wouldn't allow it."

"But… but Draco's dead," said Hermione quietly.

Toory hung her head. "Young Master wouldn't allow it. Young Master was a good master. Even if Young Master isn't here, Toory will not disobey Young Master. Put the necklace back, please, Miss Hermione. Toory is begging you."

Hermione nodded. "All right, I'm putting it down."

She set the necklace down on the nightstand, loathe to part from it. When _had_ he taken it off? Why had he left it in such an easily accessible area? Then again, it wouldn't change into a lion unless she came around, and when he was alive, there was almost no chance at all that she would ever show up in his bedroom.

She sighed.

"Miss Hermione, please come with Toory. Toory still has to show Miss Hermione around."

"All right, just one more moment," said Hermione.

She took another look around the bedroom before following the house elf outside.

Toory led her to the guest rooms, and then she led the way back downstairs to show Hermione around the kitchens and many large rooms. Hermione had thought that the Manor looked huge from the outside, but it seemed even bigger inside—there were so many rooms, and almost every single one was huge, spacious.

But her mind was more occupied by thoughts of Draco. She was looking at the place where he had spent most of his time before coming to Hogwarts. It was cold, and very empty. She wondered if the place had had more life when Lucius was still alive, but from the way Draco spoke about his home, Hermione doubted that it was much different from the way it was now.

"_Oh, come on," said Hermione, smiling. "Just tell me."_

_He sighed. "Why is it so important to you?"_

"_I'm just curious. I want to know what it was like for you, growing up. I answered all of your questions about my childhood, didn't I?"_

"_You have nothing to be ashamed of."_

"_You shouldn't be ashamed, Draco. You didn't choose your family."_

_Draco shifted, and Hermione propped herself up to let him get comfortable._

"_It's okay," he said, and she snuggled close to him again._

_They were lying under a thick, warm blanket at the top of the Astronomy Tower. It had snowed that day, and they'd come up to look at the view. Light from the moon reflected off the snow, making it sparkle. The lake was completely covered by ice and shone in the night. The grounds had an ethereal glow about them._

_They'd spent a while taking in the view before Hermione complained about the cold, and Draco had suggested a very pleasing way to warm her up._

"_What does your home look like?" she asked._

"_You just won't take no for an answer, will you?"_

"_Nope."_

_She kissed his neck and gently ran her hand along his bare torso, enjoying the feel of his muscles tensing beneath her fingertips._

"_All right, then. I live in a mansion in Wiltshire. You know where that is, I'm guessing."_

_Hermione nodded. "Of course."_

_He laughed. "Yes, of course. You're the brilliant Mudblood witch who knows everything."_

_She realized that he'd said "Mudblood" again, but it didn't affect her at all anymore—it had stopped being an insult to her long ago._

"_I don't know where to start," he said. "I've never described my house to anyone before."_

"_Start with the entrance, then. If I wanted to go to your house, how would I get inside?"_

_He shook his head. "You wouldn't be able to get inside."_

"_Why not?" asked Hermione, frowning._

"_You're an outsider. We have a set of wrought-iron gates. No one can get past them unless they're allowed. If you tried to enter, a mouth would form to ask who you were, and we would know someone was trespassing on our property."_

"_Interesting. I wonder what kind of spell—"_

"_You _would_ start wondering about the type of spell. Next thing you'd do is run off to the library to find a book on charms."_

_Hermione lifted her head off his chest and pouted at him._

"_All right, I'm sorry."_

_He pulled her up to give her a quick peck on the lips, but she surprised him by inserting her lower lip between his, tugging his upper lip into her own mouth to suck on it. There was an almost immediate reaction from him down below, and she giggled._

"_Ooh, did I wake someone up?" she teased._

"_Oh, now you're gonna get it," he growled, flipping them over and crushing the blanket beneath them._

_She shivered as he scooted down and took one of her nipples into his mouth. She moaned and felt herself getting warm and wet again. Then he started kissing his way down her flat stomach._

"_Draco, it's cold," she complained, trying to get the blanket out from under her._

_His hands pried her legs apart, and then two fingers rubbed along her dripping slit. She inhaled sharply when those fingers slid inside her warmth. Still, she couldn't hold back from shivering. It was freezing. He seemed to notice this and pulled his fingers away from her. She whined at the loss of contact, but he lifted her up, tugging the blanket out from under her and throwing it over both of them._

"_Thank you," she said._

_He smirked and plunged his fingers back inside her._

"_Oh _god_, thank you," she moaned._

_His thumb rubbed her clit in a circular motion, just the way she liked it, but he kept working her right up to the edge before slowing his pace or stopping his thrusts. She squirmed against him to no avail and let out a frustrated growl._

"_Stop teasing me!"_

_He lowered his head and withdrew his fingers, replacing them immediately with his tongue. She moaned and arched her back, bucking her hips. His hands held her still while he ate at her hungrily. When she finally came, screaming her release, he lapped up her juices before climbing up to hover over her. He kissed her, and she could taste herself—tangy and sweet—on his tongue._

_She grabbed onto his hips, positioning him near her entrance, and he smirked into the kiss as he plunged deep into her wet opening. She was so lost in pleasure that she thought she might start sobbing. Her nails scraped down his back as he pounded roughly into her. He hissed and increased the tempo of his thrusts, moaning her name softly._

_Waves of pleasure rolled over her for the third time that night, and she gripped him tightly as he finished his last few thrusts, still calling her name. His lips covered hers, and she massaged his tongue with hers. This kiss was slow, gentle. Heat rose in her chest, and she felt extremely content._

_He shifted to lie beside her, sliding an arm beneath her head and pulling her to his chest possessively._

"_So, want to tell me some more about your home?" she asked when she could breathe properly again._

_Draco sighed. "It's… home isn't the right word to describe it."_

_She frowned, tilting her head back to look at him, but she could only see his chin, jaw, and a bit of his cheek._

"_Don't get me wrong. I love the place. It's just… it's so impersonal. I see the house elves around the house more often than my parents."_

_She slid her arms around him to hold him, and he gently rubbed her back._

"_The rooms are all pretty open. We keep the furnishings simple but elegant. My mother is very particular about furniture, always fretting about whether something will be too much or not. She fusses over my appearance a lot, whether or not we're expecting guests. I can't ever dress casually."_

"_Really? That's odd. I can't imagine dressing up to walk around my own home."_

_He shrugged. "That's just the way it is."_

"_What are your parents like?"_

_There was a pause before Draco spoke. "My mother is very loving. She cares a lot about me."_

_Hermione frowned. "You don't sound very sincere."_

"_No, I suppose not. It's not her fault. It's more of my father's problem. He… he puts limits on the amount of time that my mother is allowed to spend with me."_

"_That's… appalling."_

"_He doesn't want me to get soft. Personally, I think his mum just didn't love him enough, and now he's taking it out on me," Draco said bitterly._

"_Oh, Draco," Hermione whispered, squeezing him tight and leaving kisses on his chest. "Death Eater or not, your father must love his own son."_

_His arms tightened around her. "I don't want to talk about my father. My mother… I'm grateful for her."_

"_I feel so sorry for her. I don't think I would be able to bear having a time limit on how much time I could spend with my children."_

"_She got used to it over the years," said Draco._

_Hermione closed her eyes and continued to hold him. She really hadn't known much about his parents at all, save that his father was among the Death Eaters who had shown up at the graveyard to support Voldemort. She felt bad for him, having to grow up in such a rigid, cold home. And she sympathized with Mrs. Malfoy—she couldn't imagine how it would feel to be told by her own husband that she wasn't allowed to spend as much time with her son as she wanted._

Hermione frowned at the thought of Draco's mother.

"Toory, where's your mistress?" she asked. She hadn't seen Narcissa since she'd become a Death Eater, but she'd heard that Narcissa wasn't among the dead at the Battle of Hogwarts.

"The Mistress is sick," said Toory. "Come, I will show you the library, and we'll be finished."

Hermione's eyes widened as she remembered Draco boasting about how big his library at home was—he'd said that it rivaled the library at Hogwarts. Now she would see it for herself.

They stepped into a room, and Hermione gasped.

"What's wrong, Miss Hermione?"

She shook her head. "I… I just really like books," she said honestly.

Toory smiled. "The Young Master liked books too. Toory thinks he read every book in here."

"Really?" said Hermione, walking to the nearest shelf and running her fingers along the spines of the large volumes.

"Yes. If Miss Hermione wants to, she is allowed to read. No one other than the Young Master read these books. Toory has to go to work. Will Miss Hermione be able to find her room?"

"Yes, I'll be fine." She had picked the guest room nearest to Draco's room.

"Bye, Miss Hermione!"

Hermione turned to wave at the small elf and watched her scurry out of the room. Then she turned back to the shelf.

Oh, it'd been so, so long since she last had a proper selection of books in front of her. She didn't even know where to start. She strode to one of the shelves and was about to pull out a book on legends when she remembered that she wanted to find out more about binding magic.

They'd made Blaise drink some sort of potion, so Hermione moved along the shelves until she found a bookcase full of books on potions. She took a deep breath and pulled out a few thick volumes. Then she moved to a table in the middle of the library and sat down to get started on the first book.

* * *

**Author's Note:** As always, review! Pretty pretty please with a cherry on top? :)

By the way, I just started working on another potential chapter story, but I won't publish it until I have an idea of where it's gonna go. But keep an eye out! It'll probably be going up within the week.


	15. XIV A Belated Visit

**Author's Note:** This isn't exactly one of my favorite chapters. It wasn't all that fun to write, and I don't know how much fun it'll be to read. But it's important to the plot (at least, the last half is) so please bear with me. I enjoyed writing the next one because there was quite a bit more action, so don't worry! I'll be updating again soon.

Read and review!

**XIV. A Belated Visit**

A few weeks passed.

Every morning, Bellatrix brought a prisoner out for Hermione to torture. They always had bags over their heads, and Hermione wondered if Bellatrix was trying to keep it a secret that Hermione was a Death Eater, or if she simply didn't want Hermione to see whom she was torturing. Sometimes she recognized the voice, but she didn't allow it to affect her.

She was becoming numb to the screams. They didn't pierce her ears as strongly as before—it was as though she could tune them out.

She was scaring herself.

Sometimes in the afternoons, Bellatrix would bring out another prisoner. She seemed to think that Hermione's progress was too slow, but she didn't complain too much. It was as if she enjoyed watching Hermione struggle with her conscience.

Eventually, Bellatrix also began to teach Hermione Legilimency—she said that it would be important for extracting information and was almost always more effective than torture. Of course, she had to add that she enjoyed using torture so much more. Hermione found that Legilimency was much easier for her than Occlumency, and she picked up the skill quickly.

Mealtimes were quiet. Hermione usually ate alone at a long dining table. She didn't ask where Bellatrix took her meals, and she still hadn't seen Draco's mother anywhere during her stay. It seemed that no one else stayed in the Manor, although she did catch Death Eaters coming and going each day.

She hadn't heard anything from Blaise. Not a single thought or emotion came from him. She hadn't felt so alone in a very long time. Thinking of him usually left her wishing that she had had enough time to apologize to him for being so cold to him the last time they were in the same room. All he'd wanted to do was take care of her, something that Draco had asked him to do, and she'd snubbed him.

She hoped fervently that he was all right, wherever he was. She'd never been much of the praying type, but sometimes she thought about the possibility of a higher power and hoped that if He was out there, He would watch over Blaise for her.

Between mealtimes and torturing sessions, Hermione spent almost all of her time in the library.

She'd gotten through almost every single book on potions that they had, and today, she was sitting down with the very last one. She highly doubted she would find the binding magic in a book titled, _Rare Magical Herbs and Where to Find Them_, but it was her last hope in the potions section. And maybe, just maybe, the potion they'd used for the binding magic contained one of these magical herbs.

A few hours later, she slammed the book shut in frustration and put it back in its place on the shelf.

Where could it be, if not in the potions section?

She walked up and down the rows of bookcases for a while before seeing a section on family traditions. Of _course_. She should have started there. Blaise had said something about it being an ancient tradition, after all.

Hermione picked out a thick, unnamed, very old-looking volume and walked back to the table, putting it down and opening it. The spine creaked as the book opened, and the pages crunched lightly when she turned them. This book was clearly ancient.

She hadn't gotten more than four pages into the book when the door to the library flew open, and Bellatrix entered. The book closed on its own and floated away from the table in the direction of the shelves from which it came.

Hermione got to her feet.

"Granger, of course it would be you," said Bellatrix in a dangerously soft voice. "I'm warning you, pry into the family history one more time, and you will be dead. I don't care if the Dark Lord wants to use you. We can do without a Mudblood like you. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," said Hermione, nodding.

"Good."

Bellatrix spun on her heel and exited.

Hermione groaned, frustrated. She was willing to bet that that book held the answer she sought. But she wasn't willing to risk her life to satisfy her curiosity.

And as much as she hated to admit it, she didn't mind the bond between her and Blaise so much anymore. Yes, the fact that he was her _slave_ still worried and sickened her, but she really did enjoy having his voice in her head sometimes.

Hermione stood and left the library.

She didn't know what to do, now that she'd finished the potions section and found nothing that could help her. Maybe she would read her way through the rest of the library, if she couldn't find anything else to do. She hated sitting idly, reading, while almost everyone she knew was out there doing something important.

She wondered how her comrades at the Order were faring. She hadn't been able to catch anything from the Death Eaters coming and going. But one night, there had been a meeting, and she'd heard a bit of the conversation when she passed by the room and found the door unguarded. Someone had been killed, someone in the Order. It wasn't a student. She listened extremely carefully, but before she could catch a name, she'd heard footsteps down the hall and had to run.

Hermione heard sobs as she passed by a door, and she stopped, frowning.

Her legs had brought her up to the second floor and down a hallway that was unfamiliar to her. Thoughtless wandering in this mansion wasn't a good idea. Too easy to get lost.

She turned to the door. Who could be inside?

She jiggled the doorknob and found it locked. She then pulled out her wand and unlocked it before pressing the door open.

"Granger," croaked a voice.

Hermione stared at the woman and barely stopped her own jaw from dropping.

"Oh, thank Merlin…"

Hermione couldn't believe her eyes. Narcissa Malfoy had been a beautiful woman. Now, her face was pale, gaunt, with dark shadows under her eyes. Her cheeks were sunken, and her hair was gray and tangled. Her thin frame shook feebly.

"What…" Hermione said. She didn't know how to react.

"Oh no, Bella is coming. Please, help me. Save my son—save Draco," Narcissa pleaded.

"He's… he's dead," Hermione whispered.

"No! No!" Narcissa shrieked hysterically. "You have to save him, before he _does_ die! Please—"

Then Hermione heard a voice from behind her.

"Silencio!"

Narcissa's voice cut off, and she sobbed soundlessly as she was forced backwards into her room. The door slammed shut, and Hermione turned around.

"What happened to—"

"Cissy is taking Draco's death very hard," said Bellatrix, her eyes narrow. "It didn't help that Lucius was murdered at the same time. Don't disturb her."

Hermione nodded. "I'm sorry—it won't happen again."

As Bellatrix stalked away, Hermione hung her head. She couldn't seem to shake the image of Narcissa's face from her mind. She couldn't stop thinking about what grief had done to her in the past year. But her eyes, while they'd looked wild, hadn't come across as crazy. That poor woman honestly believed that Draco still had a chance of being saved…

* * *

The next morning, Hermione decided to take a stroll outside, since the weather was warm. It was nice to finally walk around outdoors; she'd stayed inside since her arrival at the Manor. She saw a rose garden in the distance, still on the property, and wondered just how much land the Malfoys owned.

She entered the rose garden a few minutes later, only to realize that it was a cemetery. Her heart leapt to her throat as she realized that this was where Draco had been laid to rest. It took her a few minutes to locate his grave, and when she did, she fell to her knees.

"I'm sorry it took me until now to see you," she said in a slightly shaking voice.

She replied for him in her head, _What are you sorry about? I'm dead. I've got all the time in the world to wait. There are more important things to be taken care of._

"Yes, I guess there are," she responded aloud.

_Why are you trying to kill Harry Potter?_

"Because he killed you."

Hermione imagined his perfect lips, curled into that familiar smirk, heard the sarcasm that would layer his voice, _Really? I had no idea._ Then, his face in her mind became serious. _Look, Hermione, I don't care about vengeance. I just want you to live a happy life._

Hermione sighed. Was that really what he would have wanted, or would he prefer what she was doing now? She really couldn't tell.

She conjured a single crystalline rose, with an emerald stem and petals of silver. She placed it on the ground, knelt for a short while longer, and then slowly made her way back to the Manor.

She'd be back to visit again soon.

_Harry and Ron had stayed behind at the tent, as usual. Hermione had left the protected area to find food; they had set up near a stream that day, so she was fishing._

_She had already caught two fish when she heard footsteps in the surrounding woods. She spun around rapidly, hoping it was just Ron or Harry, but she didn't see anyone._

_Hermione picked up the fish and headed back toward camp but stopped short and ducked as a flash of red light blinded her momentarily. She dropped the fish and whipped out her wand as she raced in the opposite direction—she couldn't lead the attacker straight to camp._

_She heard pounding footsteps crashing through the foliage on either side of her and realized that there were two attackers. Just as she began to use a Shield Charm, she crashed right into one of them, and the barrier dissipated before it was completely formed._

"_Stupefy!" she cried, and the Death Eater in front of her crumpled to the ground._

"_Petrificus Totalus!" she heard from behind her._

_Her limbs snapped together, and she toppled to the ground, eyes wide in fear. She heard footsteps coming closer and prayed that Harry and Ron had heard her and were on their way to save her._

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

_Hermione winced. Then she blinked, realizing that she was still alive. There was a thud, followed by leaves crunching, then another flash of green light. She recognized the voice this time._

_Draco walked into sight. "Finite Incantatem," he said._

_Hermione got to her feet and threw her arms around him. "You saved my life."_

_Draco patted her back, chuckling. "Obviously."_

"_How—how did you know I was here?"_

"_I didn't. I was following those two. I was supposed to back them up if they ran into trouble. Unluckily for them, the trouble they ran into was you."_

"_But… now that you've killed them, won't you get into trouble?" Hermione backed up just a little so she could look at his face._

_Draco smiled. "I've been in trouble since I fell in love with you."_

_Hermione looked around worriedly. Draco laughed lightly, and Hermione felt that she hadn't heard that wonderful sound in far too long._

"_Don't worry—no one's here," he reassured her._

_His lips brushed her forehead gently._

"_Any chance I'll be seeing you home soon?" he asked in a low, intimate voice._

"_Will you be free?" she asked him._

_He pressed his forehead against hers and put his arms around her loosely._

"_Until he summons us all, I'm free," he replied. "Technically, I should report that they're dead…" he gestured to the two bodies on the ground, "…but I don't mind a little white lie now and then."_

"_What do you mean?"_

_Draco just smiled. "Don't worry about it. I'll wait for you at our flat. It's about time you practiced Occlumency."_

_Hermione pouted. "That can't be the only reason why you want me to come, can it?"_

_She tightened her arms around him to pull him closer and gently thrust her hips against his._

_Draco groaned. "Not here."_

"_I'll let you know when I'm coming, then," said Hermione._

_She undid the first button of his shirt and planted an open-mouthed kiss on his collarbone, a sensitive spot that she'd discovered years before. He couldn't help but moan when she bit down._

"_Hermione, you're killing me."_

_Hermione smiled impishly. "I'll see you soon."_

_She started to back away, but Draco captured her lips with his, and she couldn't take another step. She pressed her body against his and deepened the kiss. She hadn't realized how much she missed this._

_Then he gently pried her off him._

"_See you soon," he said with a smirk._

_Before she knew it, he had Disapparated. Hermione cursed. She really had to make it to the flat as quickly as possible._

_She walked back to the stream and spent a few minutes looking for the fish she'd caught earlier. Finally, she gave up and caught two new ones. Then she hurried back to camp._

"_What took you so long?" Harry asked._

_Ron just glared at her from the ground. The locket was around his neck, and he didn't handle its effects well at all._

"_There weren't very many fish in the stream," Hermione said._

_She set down the fish she'd caught and went about making dinner._

"Miss Hermione? It's dinnertime."

Toory's voice tugged Hermione out of her reverie, and she sat up, stretching.

"Thanks, Toory," she said, getting to her feet and going to the dining room.

"Mistress Bellatrix left," Toory said as Hermione took her seat.

"Oh, really? Do you know when she'll be back?"

"Toory doesn't know," the house elf replied, shaking her head. "Toory will leave now."

"Bye," said Hermione.

She was left alone again.

When she finished eating, she wandered through the rooms for a few minutes before realizing that if she wanted to go to the dungeons… Bellatrix wouldn't be there to stop her.

She moved back through the manor purposefully and reached the room within a minute. As she started going down the stairs, she heard a crack behind her.

"Miss Hermione, please don't go down there. Toory will get into big trouble if Miss Hermione goes down there."

"But I just—"

"Please, please, Miss Hermione!"

Hermione sighed. "All right, I won't."

She didn't want the house elf to be punished on her behalf, but she really wanted to see how many prisoners were locked up in there and the reason why Bellatrix still wasn't letting her go inside.

Hours later, Hermione crept out of her bed and returned to the room. But before she could start going down the steps, someone grabbed her arm and tugged her away. She spun around and locked eyes with Blaise. She gasped.

"Hermione, don't," he said. "You'll be punished."

She flung her arms around him without a second thought, and he backed up a step to regain his balance.

"Whoa, girl."

"I'm sorry," she said, backing up. "I just—I was worried about you."

He smiled grimly. "I'm really sorry about that. I wanted to talk to you, but he was always there." Then he gestured at the entrance to the dungeons. "Don't go in there. Bellatrix will be back soon."

Hermione sighed. "I really want to see the inside. Even after all this time, they still won't let me in. There's got to be a good reason why."

"I really don't know what they'd have to hide from you," said Blaise. "I was down there a few times, and basically there were just a ton of students. I can't imagine that many of them are left."

"Are you allowed to tell me what you were doing?" she asked after a moment.

"Let's go back to headquarters. I'll tell you what I can there."

"All right, then," said Hermione grudgingly.

She allowed herself to be led out of the Manor and through the front gates.

"Don't you think we should ask—"

"The Dark Lord said it was all right for me to take you with me. What we're about to do is very important, and I've got to explain it all to you. Now let me take you."

"I'm not going to splinch myself."

"I know you're not," said Blaise, gripping her elbow tightly anyway.

They reappeared at Hermione and Draco's flat.

Hermione's mind immediately flashed back to the last conversation they'd had in that room. She sighed and moved to the couch to sit down.

"Well, start explaining," she said.

Blaise heaved a sigh. "All right. We're coming down on the final battle."

"Um, I'm sorry. Can you rewind a bit? What were you out doing with Voldemort?"

"Obviously, he didn't want you to know. Please don't ask me. If I try to communicate it to you, I'm gonna be in a lot of pain."

Hermione frowned. "How?"

"He said that if that information comes out of me, it'll be like I have the Cruciatus Curse on me. I don't know how that works, but I don't doubt it."

"Fine, you don't have to tell me anything he's forbidden you to tell me," she said begrudgingly.

"Thanks."

"So what is it that you _can_ tell me?"

"I can tell you some background information and then what we're going to do next."

"Go on, then."

"Well, you remember how the Ministry's been working on the Quidditch World Cup? It's because the Dark Lord wants his final showdown to have an audience."

Hermione bit her lip. "He's going to ask Harry to battle him there?"

"Yes," said Blaise, nodding. "Our job is to convince him to go."

"But—"

"Just listen. This is perfect."

"How is it perfect? He could plant Death Eaters all throughout the stands. It's madness, that's what this is!" Hermione exclaimed.

Blaise frowned. "You sound unreasonably concerned for the boy who killed Draco."

"It's not about Harry. Well no, I suppose it is. But he's not the reason—I don't want Voldemort to win the war! Life is going to be _hell_ for us if he does!"

"Technically, we'll be on the winning side if we help him—"

"Blaise, don't you _dare_—"

"I know, I know. If things came down to that, you'd rather go down with the ship," he said, sighing. "If it were my choice, we'd pick the winning side and live."

Hermione shook her head.

"All right, fine. This is a little risky, but I think it'll work perfectly. We have to get Potter to show up at the last battle. You don't have to worry about him being ambushed. The Dark Lord wants to finish him off himself, fair and square, for everyone to see. So he'll have a protective barrier over the fight. They'll be the only ones who can reach each other."

"But Harry, he has only a slim chance of winning a fair duel against _Voldemort_. Please tell me there's something else."

"Of course there is. It's just… I'm going to need some help from you as far as that goes."

She furrowed her brow and looked up at him. "What do you need?"

"I need you to help me convince the Dark Lord that it's a good idea to have a back-up plan. My back-up plan. I've seen the stadium for the World Cup—it's finished already. There's a hollow space under the stands with a small opening so that you can see out onto the pitch. I think it's used for maintenance. I want him to place me back there and leave an opening in his protective barrier, that way I can kill Potter if he doesn't. But when the time comes, if Potter needs help, I'll turn on the Dark Lord and kill him from that spot."

"Even if he agrees to that plan, what makes you think he'll pick you? He'd pick someone who he knows is faithful to him."

Blaise pulled up his sleeve to show her the Dark Mark branded on his arm. "He trusts me now."

"Still, what's to stop him from putting any other Death Eater there?"

"I thought of a solution for that too. We'll tell the Dark Lord that Potter thinks I'm down there backing him up, and that he won't come to fight until I give him the signal. The Dark Lord can just pretend he doesn't catch it, giving Potter a false sense of security."

"I don't think Voldemort would fall for that. And what are we really going to tell Harry?"

"We'll tell him that the Dark Lord knows I'm there and—"

"So basically," said Hermione, cutting him off, "what you want to do is to tell both Harry _and_ Voldemort that you're going to be backing them up so that both of them will want you waiting under the stands. Honestly, how thick do you think they are? I doubt they'll believe you."

"It'll work. I can do it, with your help."

"I don't think—"

"Don't you trust me?" asked Blaise.

"Honestly? I'm not sure. The way you've planned this, it seems as though in the very end, it'll be up to you which side you'll choose. I mean, there's no saying whether you'll be on the Light side or the Dark."

"For my mother—"

"Blaise, don't. You've been gone, alone with Voldemort, for a really long time. You must have wanted to avenge your mother, but after spending all that time with Voldemort, and suddenly returning with the Mark… I can't help thinking that he must have stamped out all the vengeance from you before letting you return."

"I thought you wouldn't trust me," said Blaise. "So before I went to get you tonight, I stole Malfoy Sr.'s Pensieve. Its last contents were still inside."

His posture stiffened slightly as he produced the Pensieve from a small pouch he'd had in his pocket. He'd been storing their Death Eater robes and masks in that pouch and had confirmed to Hermione that he'd used an Undetectable Extension Charm on it.

"You checked it?" she asked.

"I took a peek."

He placed the Pensieve on the coffee table in front of Hermione.

"Go ahead and take a look. I'll pull you out before you get too far in. It gets… very nasty."

Hermione bit her lip. "It's… it's all right. I believe you."

"No, I insist. I don't want any doubt. After seeing _this_ happen to my mother, there is no way at all that I would take Voldemort's side. And I want you to believe me because you've seen it too."

Hermione took a deep breath and leaned forward, placing her hands on either side of the golden basin. She'd never gone into a Pensieve before. She looked up at Blaise, and he nodded. She looked back down and slowly lowered her face to the silvery swirling substance.

_There was a very beautiful, circular Persian rug in the center of the room. A small table was placed over it, surrounded by four chairs. A lone cup of coffee sat on the table, but its contents had cooled long ago. Large drapes covered three of the four walls, and even the ceiling was concealed by cloth. There were several chests of drawers lined up side by side on the uncovered wall. Each was marked with its own unique, intricate design. A sparkling chandelier hung from the ceiling, but only a few of its hundreds of candles were lit, casting a dim flickering light over the room._

_She turned her head to the right and jumped when she saw Lucius Malfoy standing patiently, eyes fixed on a staircase across the room from him._

_She heard a door open, and then there were footsteps on the stone steps. A beautiful woman appeared at the foot of the stairs and smiled nervously at her guest._

"_Hello, Lucius," she said in a quavering voice. "I didn't know—"_

"_Yes, I didn't think you would be expecting me."_

_Lucius's voice was cold and sent chills down Hermione's back, but it was mostly because she knew what his intentions were._

"_Is—is there anything that I can do for you?" she asked with a smile plastered to her face._

_Lucius seemed to deliberate for a while, a small sneer stretching his lips. Draco had smirked like that before, but Hermione had never seen him look as wicked as his father did._

"_Yes, in fact there is," he finally replied._

_Blaise's mother shifted her feet nervously and smiled again. "Anything for the Malfoy family," she said quietly. "Have you had any word on the whereabouts of my son?"_

"_Unfortunately, no," said Lucius. "I will let you know as soon as I hear anything."_

"_Then… what is it that I can do?"_

_Lucius took a few steps to the table and pulled out a chair. He sat down and drew his wand._

_Ms. Zabini quivered in fear. "L—Lucius, have I done something wrong?" she asked in a very small voice. She could sense that something very bad was coming—Hermione saw it in her eyes._

"_No, no. Let me assure you, none of this is your fault, but it is unfortunately necessary."_

_The woman suddenly whipped her wand out, but before she could point it at Lucius, it flew out of her hand and clattered uselessly against the far wall._

"_Please, no…"_

"_Crucio!"_

_Ms. Zabini let out a piercing scream and fell to the ground, crying for mercy. Hermione looked away from the writhing woman and up at Lucius's face to see that it was a blank mask, completely indifferent to his task. She frowned—according to what she'd heard from Parkinson back in fifth year, the elder Malfoy was supposed to enjoy torturing his victims. Then again, he'd seemed to be on friendly terms with the Zabini family. Depraved as he was, maybe he still couldn't enjoy torturing a friend._

_The shrieks continued, and Ms. Zabini kept rolling around on the ground._

_Hermione wondered when Blaise would pull her out._

_Then it was silent. Blaise's mother lay limp on the ground. Lucius ran a hand through his long, silvery hair and shook his head. Then he pointed his wand at his victim, and she stirred. As soon as she saw Lucius, she whimpered._

"_Please… no more…" she begged._

"_I am sorry, Isabella. But this is something that must be done."_

_She groaned and tried to lift herself up on her hands and knees. Lucius waved his wand, and her arms and legs buckled. Long tears ripped through her dress, and bloodstains blossomed along the holes in the cloth. She screamed in agony. Lucius flicked his wand at her, and she was lifted into the air, strung up by invisible cords._

"_Please, stop," she sobbed._

"_I've only just gotten started."_

"_Blaise, get me out of here!" Hermione shouted at the cloth-covered ceiling. "Get me out of here!"_

_She didn't want to see what Lucius was going to do next, but she couldn't force herself to turn away, watching as he pulled out a short, jagged blade._

_Ms. Zabini was blubbering incoherently now. He held the blade to her stomach, and Hermione gritted her teeth. She really, really didn't want to see this. Lucius pressed down on the blade, and Ms. Zabini screamed, jerking in a feeble attempt to get away._

_Hermione's eyes were glued to the movement of the knife as he slowly dragged it to the right, pulling it out when he'd reached her side. Then he sank it in about an inch lower, eliciting renewed shrieks of pain from the woman. His blade followed its previous cut, gliding to the right until finally reaching her side. Lucius pointed his wand at the bleeding parallel gashes, and the blood slowed. Ms. Zabini's screams were silenced, but her mouth continued to move—he'd placed a Silencing Charm on her._

_Then there was one sickening crack followed by another, and Hermione winced as Lucius slipped two long, thin fingers into the lower wound and pulled out what Hermione identified as one of the victim's ribs._

_Bile rose in her throat, and she backed up, hitting the wall. "Blaise!" she screamed up at the ceiling. Then she felt a tug on her elbow, and the room started spiraling away from her rapidly._

Hermione returned to her body in her flat, shaken and disturbed. It was hard to imagine what could possibly be worse—she'd just watched a woman have one of her ribs carved from her body!

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "Did I leave you in there for too long?"

"You—you had to watch the rest of that?"

"Yes. Do you honestly think I would choose to kill Potter over Voldemort, given the chance?"

Hermione looked at his eyes and wasn't sure what she saw there. It seemed to be a strange combination of hatred and anguish, strength and vulnerability. She closed her eyes, trying to get a sense of his emotions—she hadn't done this in such a long time. Above any other emotion emanating from him was a great sense of fatigue. He was exhausted.

"Sit," she said, gesturing to the spot beside her on the couch.

"You didn't answer my question," he said as he stepped around the coffee table and sat.

"I honestly don't know," said Hermione quietly, watching the contents of the Pensieve continue to swirl around. "I… I really want to trust you. But I'm scared. This puts you in such an important position, and I'm just…"

He placed a gentle hand on hers, and her eyes darted up to his face to find his brown eyes. Damn it, she'd been wishing for silver again. She mentally cursed herself. She'd expected that spending a long time away from Blaise would quell these stupid, stupid illusions.

"Hermione, are you okay?" he asked, noticing her expression.

"Yes, I'm fine," she replied, looking away.

"It just happened again, didn't it?"

He didn't have to explain what he was talking about—it was clear to both of them.

"Yes," said Hermione, not bothering to lie.

"Draco would trust me with this, you know."

"I know he would."

Blaise lifted his free hand—the one that wasn't resting on hers—to her face and turned it to face him. He had a weak smile on his face. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She didn't know what to say. His thumb rubbed her cheek gently, and tingles ran down her spine. She wanted to tell him to take his hands off her, but she found that she couldn't.

"You _do_ trust me, don't you?" he whispered.

It took every ounce of willpower in her body to stop herself from kissing him in that moment. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head away, pulling her hand out from beneath his.

"Blaise, don't do that. You know I accidentally see _him_ sometimes."

"Sorry."

They sat in silence for a moment.

Finally, Hermione spoke. "If Voldemort's mission for us is to convince Harry to go to the Quidditch World Cup, I suppose we don't have much of an option."

"I can't believe I didn't think of this earlier, but I'm still bound to you, Hermione. One thought from you and I won't be able to hurt Harry," said Blaise.

Hermione blinked. "I don't know how that slipped my mind."

"It's perfect then, isn't it?"

"If we can convince them, then maybe."

"Let's get going, then. We don't have time to waste."

"Wait just a minute. I want to make sure it still works," said Hermione.

"Okay."

Hermione stood up. _Get up and go around to the other side of the coffee table._

Blaise did as he was told.

_Kneel down_, she commanded.

He knelt.

_Say aloud that you worship Muggle-borns._

"Are you kidding me?" said Blaise, looking up at her with a mixture of amusement and anger on his face. Hermione shook her head, and he spat, "I worship Muggle-borns."

"Seems like it works," said Hermione. "You can stand up now."

Blaise got back to his feet.

"Should we talk about how to convince Harry first?" she asked him.

He shook his head. "I want to have a chance to talk to him alone, if that's all right. Could you help me get that opportunity?"

Hermione nodded. "I'll try."

"Oh, and what are we going to tell them about Hagrid?"

"Did you hear anything about him while you were out with Voldemort?" Hermione asked, frowning.

Blaise shook his head. "Nothing."

"We could just come clean and say that we were doing Voldemort's bidding and that now we finally have a chance to kill him."

"It'll be hard to get them to believe us if we admit that we lied before, though," Blaise pointed out.

"But there's a shot at killing Voldemort and ending this war," said Hermione. "Harry won't let that slip by. And if you want to speak to him alone, you must have some idea of how to convince him."

"Good point. We're sticking to the truth, then."

"Yes. Now let's go."

Hermione walked around the couch and pulled out her wand to Disapparate.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Just in case you were wondering, Blaise's mother really is Ms. Zabini, rather than Mrs. Zabini, because she's divorced. (Yes, I looked this up, because I am just that nerdy)

By the way, my next chapter story will be going up soon, but I have yet to come up with a title. I'm pretty much rotten with titles, so it could take a little while…

Anyway, please review!


	16. XV Under Attack

**XV. Under Attack**

Screams met Hermione's ears as she Apparated onto the doorstep. Panicking, she threw open the door. A Stunning Spell hit the doorframe above her head, and splinters rained down on her. She sprinted into the room.

Mrs. Black was howling in her high-pitched voice, but instead of her usual choruses about Mudbloods and blood traitors, she was squealing with delight, cheering on the Death Eaters who had come to "purify her home." Hermione fired a Full Body-Bind Curse at a nearby Death Eater and tried to make some sense of the chaos.

George and Terry were on the steps, teaming up against three Death Eaters who fired curses up at them. Hermione raced down the hall toward the kitchen and pointed her wand at a Death Eater who had just thrown Ginny against the wall and was about to curse her.

"Avada Kedavra!" shouted Hermione.

A jet of green light issued from the tip of her wand, and the Death Eater crumpled to the ground.

"Hermione?" she heard Ginny say.

Hermione reached down and grabbed Ginny's arm, hauling her to her feet. She heard a strangled cry coming from within the kitchen and hurried inside, followed closely by Ginny.

"Stupefy!" she shouted at a Death Eater.

He slumped forward, and his upper body landed in a cauldron of bubbling liquid—Hermione remembered that they had still been brewing Polyjuice Potion. Hermione quickly lifted her wand to block a hex coming her way from the only other Death Eater in the room, and Ginny disarmed him. Hermione hit him with another Full Body-Bind, and he toppled to the ground.

"Michael, are you okay?" Ginny asked.

The Ravenclaw got to his feet but swayed a little, leaning on the table for support. Ginny hurried over to help him, and Hermione turned her attention to the Death Eater on the ground, trying her best to ignore the shouts and hexes outside. She moved around the table and squatted down to pull the mask off. The face beneath made her gasp.

"Guys—it's Lavender," she said.

Michael groaned weakly as Ginny helped him into a seat at the table.

"Damn it, that means Zabini was right," Ginny growled. Her dislike for Blaise hadn't diminished at all in the time that he'd been working for the Order.

"Watch her," said Hermione. "And defend Michael against anyone who comes in. I'll be back when it's safe to leave."

Before Ginny could reply, she swept out of the room and back into the chaos outside, slamming the door behind her. She muttered a charm to seal the door and hoped no one would be able to get inside.

She dodged a hex and raced for the stairs. She blocked a curse from one of the Death Eaters who'd been dueling with George and Terry. Harry appeared on the landing up above and shot a hex down at one of the Death Eaters, who was caught unawares and collapsed. Hermione simultaneously subdued the other.

"Blimey," said Terry, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Come on, there are more of them upstairs!" Harry shouted.

As they ran up the stairs, Hermione shouted a question at George and Terry.

"Where did the Death Eaters come from?"

"We heard sounds of a struggle coming from upstairs—Neville's room," George replied.

"How did they get in?" Hermione asked, stunned.

"We have no idea," said Terry without slowing his pace.

They reached the upper landing and immediately had to leap backwards to dodge a flash of green light. George and Terry were able to catch their balance, but Hermione lost her footing and fell backwards. A pair of strong arms caught her, saving her from a bad fall. An overwhelmingly _Draco_ scent wafted over her, and she almost forgot where she was, her mind reeling back to the last time she'd caught that scent.

"Careful there, _Master_," Blaise breathed into her ear with a smirk.

He put her back on her feet and passed by her, jumping up the last few steps. It took a few seconds for Hermione to recover before she could follow him up onto the landing.

Harry and Terry had disappeared, but Hermione could see George in the drawing room through the open door and assumed that the other two had gone in with him. Lots of bangs and shouts were coming from within. Blaise was on the landing, dueling a single Death Eater. He flicked his wand, and the Death Eater was thrown over the railing, falling heavily on the landing below. Hermione ran to the railing and pointed her wand down at him.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Blaise had kicked open the door to his shared room with Neville just in time to be thrown backwards by Luna, who had come barreling into him. Hermione backed out of the way just in time, and the pair of them crashed into the railing, which threatened to break with the force of the impact. A Death Eater ran out of the room and was immediately Stunned by Hermione.

She stepped into the bedroom and saw Ron dueling a single Death Eater. Hermione fired a string of curses that were all deflected easily. She moved farther into the room and caught a glimpse of a limp body that wasn't clothed in Death Eater robes lying just past the bed, but she couldn't see his face.

Then Blaise joined them in the room, and the lone Death Eater seemed more desperate, shifting completely to defending himself from the onslaught of attacks flying his way.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione noticed that Ron was turning slightly toward Blaise, his attacks moving more and more off the mark. Panic rose in her chest as she realized that he might really attack Blaise—even if she accused him of attacking, he would be able to use the chaos of the battle as an excuse for hurting Blaise "by mistake."

As Ron pointed his wand directly at Blaise and muttered a spell, Hermione pointed her wand at Ron, blocking the hex.

"Sectumsempra!" an unfamiliar voice cried, and she turned in time to see the Death Eater's wand pointed right at her.

Hermione winced as pain lanced across her chest and limbs, and she squeezed her eyes shut. It felt like someone with slashing at her with multiple blades. She heard Ron's voice, followed by a thud, and knew that the Death Eater had finally been killed.

When she opened her eyes, she saw that she didn't have a scratch on her.

But the pain was still there. Her chest still throbbed. Then she realized with a jolt what must have happened.

_Blaise!_

She dropped to her knees beside his limp body and tried to close up the wounds, the healing spells in her head jumbling together as she tried to use all of them at once. Nothing happened—she was panicking too much.

Blood flowed alarmingly quickly out of the numerous wounds across his body, and she took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself down and think of the right healing spell. She ripped his shirt open for better access to the wounds and hissed at the gruesome sight.

"Vulnera Sanentur," she finally remembered, pointing her wand at one of the deeper gashes.

She was aware that Ron was staring at her, shouting angrily, but the only thing she could hear past the blood pounding in her ears was Blaise's faint, labored breathing. The bleeding was easing up, but Blaise looked unhealthily pale for his normal dark skin tone. Was he dying?

She repeated the incantation over and over, her wand hovering above each wound just long enough for the spell to take effect. She hoped fervently that he would be okay. He'd lost a lot of blood.

"Rennervate," she whispered.

When his eyelids fluttered, she felt as though nothing else mattered anymore. He was still alive.

Then Ron's loud rant became defined.

"HERMIONE, WHY AREN'T YOU LISTENING TO ME?"

Without turning to face him, she said, "Ron, please go help the others. Hollering your head off at me in here isn't going to do any good."

"Finally, a response!" he grated.

"Get out, Ronald."

"No! Why the bloody hell do you care so fucking much about this scum?" he roared.

Hermione clenched her jaw, keeping her eyes on Blaise. He was opening his eyes, looking around the room dazedly.

"Ron, this is your fault. If you don't get out of the room this instant, I'll make you regret it."

"I—"

"I'm not kidding," said Hermione quietly.

Ron stalked past her and paused by Blaise's prone body. He spat on the ground by Blaise's head before stalking out of the room. Hermione pointed her wand at the small pool of spittle.

"Scourgify."

Then she looked back at Blaise's face to see that his eyes had locked on her face.

"Hermione," he said in a hoarse voice.

"Thank Merlin, you're all right," she said. "Don't speak. Let me get you onto a bed."

She stood and levitated his body, putting it down gently on his bed. She sat on the edge.

"I'm… sorry about your shirt," she added.

_It's all right_, he said in her head. _Is there still fighting?_

It was quiet now, except for Mrs. Black's continued screaming downstairs. Hermione glanced at the doorway to see Harry and George walking out of the drawing room followed by Terry and Ron. It seemed that none of them were too badly injured.

Hermione turned back to Blaise. _I think it's over._

"Hermione? What happened to Zabini?" asked Harry. He'd entered the bedroom.

"Sectumsempra," said Hermione.

"Oh," said Harry softly. "Who—was it that one?" he asked, pointing to the dead Death Eater in the corner of the room.

Hermione nodded. Then she looked over the edge of the bed and saw that the body she'd noticed earlier was Neville's. She gasped despite herself, and Harry leaned over to look as well.

"Bloody hell…" he breathed.

George and Terry entered the room in front of Ron.

"Is everyone okay in here?" George asked.

"Neville—he's dead," said Harry quietly.

"No," said Terry, stepping around the bed.

"Ginny and Michael are downstairs in the kitchen. I um, I sealed the door. I'll go open it up," said Hermione, but she didn't move. She looked at Blaise again. _Will you be all right up here?_

_Yes, I'll be fine._

_I'll be right back—I promise._

_It's ok, take your time. I need to talk to Potter._

_Still?_

_Yes._

_But you're really hurt—you shouldn't have jumped in front of me. What were you thinking?_

_I wasn't._

Hermione frowned at him in disapproval. _That was really stupid._

Blaise clenched his jaw. _I know. But it's done, and that's that. I still have to talk to Potter in private._

No one noticed their silent exchange. Terry was on one knee by Neville's body, checking for any sign of life, but they all knew that he was long gone. Harry sat by Hermione on the bed—it seemed his legs had failed him. George started back out the door toward the stairs.

Hermione finally got to her feet. _Just call me if you need anything, all right?_

Blaise nodded slightly in response.

"Harry, can you take care of Zabini for me?" asked Hermione.

"Er, sure," said Harry, nodding. He ran a hand through his untidy black hair and gestured toward the door. "Go on and let out Ginny and Michael."

Hermione picked up Blaise's dropped wand from the ground and tucked it into her robes. Then she exited the room and saw Ron beside Luna, helping her down the stairs to the lower landing. She passed by them when they reached the lower landing. On the ground floor, George was shutting the curtains in front of an extremely disappointed Mrs. Black. Hermione made her way to the kitchen and unsealed the door after a few attempts—she'd forgotten which curse she'd used to seal it in her hurry.

Ginny ran to her as soon as she opened the door. "Is everyone okay?" she asked worriedly.

"Neville didn't make it," said Hermione quietly. "Luna and Zabini are both injured. The rest of us are all right."

Michael stepped over. "I'm all right now—Ginny helped me out."

"That's good," said Hermione. She sat down at the kitchen table.

Soon, Terry, Ron and George entered the kitchen, and they all took seats at the table wearily.

"I can't believe we made it," said George.

Ginny started to leave the room but was stopped by Terry.

"Harry's busy," he said.

"Busy? With what?" asked Ginny.

"He's talking to Zabini."

"What could he have to say to Zabini?" Ginny asked. "Unless—was Zabini the one who betrayed us?"

Hermione sighed. "He's been with me. And besides, this can't have been his doing. Someone had to have lifted the Anti-Apparition Jinx on the house for the Death Eaters to have gotten straight into Neville's room."

She noticed that Ron was glaring at her yet again.

Terry frowned. "But none of us know how to do that yet. You're not trying to say that one of the Professors…?" After an uneasy pause, Terry said, "Well, Zabini could have told a Death Eater, breaking the Fidelius Charm, and then that Death Eater—"

"No, he actually couldn't—don't you guys know anything about the Fidelius Charm?" said Hermione.

"Oh… right," said Terry.

"Some of us here didn't pay as much attention in school," said George. "Enlighten us, would you?"

"When a place is put under the Fidelius Charm, only Secret-Keepers can reveal its location and allow other people to enter. The people who are told the location can't reveal where it is—only the Secret-Keeper can do that. Once the Secret-Keeper dies, everyone who was told before his death becomes a Secret-Keeper. Dumbledore was the Secret-Keeper of Grimmauld Place, so when he died, all of us became Secret-Keepers. But Zabini didn't know about this place until I took him here, so he isn't a Secret-Keeper, and he can't tell anyone," Hermione explained.

"Okay then, that means someone who knew about this place before Dumbledore's death had to have said something," said George.

"And it also means that we're not safe," Hermione realized aloud. "We should go upstairs and tell the others it's time to go—now. Everyone wait here. I'll go get them, and we'll decide where we should go, where we can be safe."

Hermione started for the door and heard Terry's voice.

"Why is Lavender Brown here, and bound?"

She turned around to see Ron moving around the table with his wand out.

"Don't free her," Hermione said.

"Why not?" asked Ron, pointing his wand at Lavender.

"Don't you see? She's wearing Death Eater robes," said Ginny.

"She attacked me with another Death Eater in here," said Michael.

"So what Zabini said about her was right," said George.

Sure that the others would keep Ron in check, Hermione turned and exited the kitchen, hurrying upstairs to Neville and Blaise's shared room. The door was closed, so she knocked gently.

Harry opened the door. "Hermione," he said. "Is something wrong?"

"We're not safe—the Death Eaters know we're here. We should go somewhere else temporarily, until we find another place that's safe to go to."

"All right, then. Zabini, we'll finish this later."

Harry walked past Hermione toward the stairs.

"Luna's in my bedroom—could you take her downstairs when you pass by? I'll move Blaise," she said as he started descending.

"I'll get her."

Hermione walked into the bedroom, and Blaise smiled at her.

"I haven't ever spoken much with Potter before."

"And?"

Blaise made a move to shrug but winced and stopped.

"Oh Blaise, don't move," said Hermione, stepping toward him. "I'll take you downstairs now." She pointed her wand at him. "Mobilicorpus."

Blaise winced as he was lifted into the air.

"I'm sorry," said Hermione. "I'll try to be careful."

"It's all right."

Hermione carefully moved him out of the room and down the stairs. When they reached the foot of the stairs, she let out a sigh of relief and moved him into the kitchen, where she set him down across the kitchen table.

"This is awkward," Blaise mumbled as the others took their seats around the table.

Hermione noted that Lavender remained bound on the ground. Everyone else had sat down.

"Where should we go?" Ginny asked.

"Shell Cottage," said George. "Bill—he's gone now, so we're Secret-Keepers, according to Hermione."

"So we can take everyone there," said Harry. "That's perfect."

"But who else knows about Shell Cottage?" asked Terry.

"None of the professors do," said George. "Bill kept track of all the people he told. Only professor who knew was McGonagall."

"Then let's go," said Michael. "We don't have time to waste—we can talk when we get there."

"Yeah, more Death Eaters could be on the way as we speak," said Terry.

"Let's move by Side-Along Apparition, then. We don't have enough time to describe the exact location," said Hermione. "If I'm not wrong, there are five of us here who know where Shell Cottage is and can Apparate: Harry, Ron, George, Luna and myself."

"Luna, are you strong enough to Apparate?" asked Harry concernedly.

Luna nodded. "Yes, but I don't think I can take anyone."

"Ron probably shouldn't be taking anyone along either—he can hardly get anywhere without Splinching himself," said George.

"Hey," said Ron, looking offended.

"Well it's true, isn't it?"

"I'll take Zabini," said Harry. "Trust-building exercise."

Blaise grinned. "Just don't dump me in front of the Malfoy Manor."

Harry laughed.

"I can take Ginny," said Hermione.

"And I'll take Michael and Terry," said George.

Hermione gripped Ginny's elbow. "Ready?"

"Yeah," said Ginny nervously.

Hermione remembered how Ginny had told her that she'd only been taken by Side-Along Apparition once, and she'd been terrified. She squeezed Ginny's elbow to reassure her that it was going to be all right.

"Shouldn't we bring Neville's body along?" said Michael.

"Yes, he should get a proper burial," said Harry, standing up.

"Ginny and I will Apparate from the upstairs bedroom. You guys go now. We should get out of here as soon as possible," said Hermione.

"Be careful, then," said Harry, looking between her and Ginny with concern.

Hermione felt a stab of guilt. She harbored so much hatred for him, but he still cared a lot for her—he had no idea what he'd done to her.

"We will," she said. "Now hurry up and go."

Luna and Ron Disapparated simultaneously, and George moved between Michael and Terry to get a hold of their arms. Hermione pulled Ginny out of the kitchen, and they hurried up the steps past the dead or unconscious bodies of Death Eaters.

Just as they reached the top landing and moved toward Neville's bedroom, two Death Eaters Apparated with loud cracks on the landing below. Ginny screamed and ran into the bedroom, and Hermione followed closely, not letting go of her friend's arm. She dragged Ginny around the bed to Neville's body. They heard thundering footsteps coming up the staircase, so she pointed her wand at the door to lock it.

"Colloportus!"

Then she told Ginny to hold on tight to her wand arm while she gripped Neville's arm firmly. Just before they Disapparated, Hermione caught a glimpse of the door being broken down.

They appeared on the boundary line that blocked Apparitions into the area surrounding Shell Cottage. Hermione levitated Neville's body, and they hurried toward the small house about fifty yards away. George, Michael and Terry were standing just outside the door, and they looked relieved when they saw Hermione and Ginny heading their way.

"The Death Eaters came," said Ginny breathlessly when she reached them.

"What?" exclaimed Terry.

"You two are okay, right?" asked Michael.

George pulled Ginny into his arms for a quick hug before leading her inside.

"Yes, we're fine," Hermione replied, setting Neville's body down.

It was so hard to believe that he was really gone. He was one of the first people she'd met, one of the only people to like her from the start, although that may have simply been because she'd wanted to help him find his toad, Trevor, when no one else wanted to.

"Wait," she said before Michael and Terry could go inside. "I think we should give Neville his burial before discussing where to go."

"But what if we're found?"

"There aren't many Secret-Keepers for Shell Cottage. I'm sure we have enough time to give Neville what he deserves," said Hermione.

Harry appeared in the doorway. "I agree."

Upon seeing Harry, Hermione remembered about Blaise. _Are you there?_

_Yeah, Potter got me here in one piece._

She gestured toward the garden. "We could place him next to Dobby," she said.

Harry nodded and pointed his wand at Neville's body to lift him. As he started toward the garden, Michael and Terry called for the others to join them for Neville's burial. Hermione started to follow but noticed that Blaise hadn't come—of course he couldn't come.

She turned back toward the house.

"Hermione, where are you going?" Luna asked—she'd been the last one out.

"Zabini has to be taken care of. His injuries were very serious. I'll pay my respects to Neville later," she replied.

Luna turned and continued on the small path to the garden while Hermione entered the house, closing the door behind her.

Harry had set Blaise down across one of two small couches in the sitting room. Blaise smiled as she entered.

"Hey."

Hermione sighed. "You're so stupid, you know that? Why would you _ever_ get in the way of a Dark curse like Sectumsempra? You could have _died_."

"You're welcome," said Blaise, grinning.

She shook her head and walked into the adjoining kitchen. "I don't know if they have Essence of Dittany anywhere in the house," she said.

"Try a Summoning Charm."

Hermione walked back into the sitting room and sat on the coffee table across from the couch that Blaise was lying on. She raised her wand and said, "Accio Essence of Dittany!"

A small bottle flew into the room and into Hermione's outstretched hand. She pulled out the stopper and knelt down in front of the couch to apply the brown liquid to his wounds.

"What does Harry think?" she asked him.

"We've got a good chance," said Blaise. "He was about to start explaining something to me when you came up. Don't worry. Now the only hard part will be convincing the Dark Lord. I'm pretty sure Potter's going to go for it."

Hermione nodded. "And do you have any idea how the Death Eaters found out about Grimmauld Place?"

"Honestly, I have no idea how that happened. The Dark Lord didn't say anything about attacking the Order. One of your friends must have betrayed you. How many Secret-Keepers did the Order have for Grimmauld Place anyway?"

"I don't know," said Hermione, shaking her head. "There were a lot of us who knew about the place when Dumbledore was killed by Snape."

Blaise frowned. "We could still be found here."

"Yes, I know. But this is the best we can do for now. George says that Bill didn't tell very many people about it, so we should be all right at least for a while."

"I suppose so. The World Cup is in a week, so we just have to talk to the Dark Lord before then, and we have to keep everyone safe up until then. Do you think the Death Eaters could find a Secret-Keeper who would talk in that time?"

"I doubt it. They don't know who's been here before—they probably don't even know this place exists," said Hermione.

After a pause, Blaise asked, "Shouldn't you be out there burying Longbottom?"

"I have to make sure you're all right before that."

"But I'm fine. I don't care if it scars."

"_I _care."

Blaise raised his eyebrows, but Hermione didn't respond to the unasked question. She hadn't meant to say that aloud. She continued to dab the brown liquid on his wounds, watching as they slowly mended.

Neither broke the silence for a few minutes as she worked on him. She'd finished up all the cuts on his chest and arms before finally looking at his face. One long scar marked his left cheek. She gently allowed two drops of the essence to fall onto the wound before lightly spreading it.

Her eyes shifted away from her work to his eyes, and when she saw that same shade of grey, she drew a sharp breath. She blinked a few times, but it wasn't going away.

"Blaise… your eyes…" she murmured.

His brow creased. "What's wrong with my eyes?"

"I'm going mad," she said, shaking her head.

She placed the stopper back in the bottle and set it down on the coffee table.

"You see Draco's eyes again, don't you?" he asked softly.

Hermione buried her face in her hands. "I can't take this anymore, Blaise. I can't take it. When Harry was speaking to me earlier, I started wondering how I would ever get revenge for Draco. I don't know if I can do it anymore. And now, almost every time I see you… almost _every_ time…"

"Please—control yourself," Blaise said gently. "I'd love to let you cry, but the Order, they could come back any minute. It can't take long to bury a person, and we might not be safe so they can't waste time on it either."

Hermione took a few deep breaths to steady her breathing. She wiped away a stray tear and looked up at him. She thanked Merlin that his eyes were dark brown again.

"Back to normal?" he asked tentatively.

"Yes."

Then the front door opened, and everyone walked inside.

"Harry wanted to dig Neville's grave without magic," said Michael.

"But we don't have time for that," Terry added.

"Yes, I know," said Harry exasperatedly. "It's more important to make sure the living stay alive. George, do you know who else knows about this place who might betray it to the Death Eaters?"

"I don't think so," said George. "But then again, I didn't think anyone would give up Grimmauld Place to the Death Eaters either."

"Did you hear anything about this from Voldemort?" Harry asked Hermione.

Hermione shook her head. "No."

Then she noticed that Harry was looking at Blaise, and it seemed like they had previously reached an agreement.

"I need to speak to Zabini alone," said Harry. "The lot of you can discuss the possibilities of where we can go if this place is discovered. And stock up on supplies. I think there are backpacks upstairs—" he raised his wand "—Accio backpacks!"

Several backpacks zoomed into the room.

"Pack those up with whatever you can find that might be useful if we have to leave here in a hurry," said Harry.

"What are you going to talk to _him_ about?" asked Ginny.

"It's very important," said Harry. He pointed his wand at Blaise and lifted him up to move him upstairs. Harry turned back to the others. "It won't take too long."

He walked upstairs after Blaise's body.

"I'll go outside and pay my respects to Neville. I'll be right back," said Hermione, standing up as the others started taking backpacks and looking around the room.

She walked out of the house and into the garden, where she found Neville's grave marker right beside Dobby's. She dropped to her knees.

"I don't know what to do," she said quietly. "I don't know what to do anymore. Neither of you two would understand me, or sympathize with me. I've relied on this desire for revenge to keep me going, but now…"

She hung her head.

The rational thing to do was to keep going and ignore this issue of vengeance until she had to face it—until it was actually the problem at hand. After all, she wouldn't kill Harry until Voldemort was finished and all that remained was to round up Death Eaters.

She really had needed strength to pull through, and she'd gotten it from the fact that she would be able to wring his neck at the end of this. But now she wondered if her subconscious was telling her that Draco didn't want her to do it. Maybe that was why she kept seeing his eyes on Blaise. She was just trying to tell herself that revenge was unimportant, that living on was what she should focus on. After all, that was what Blaise had been trying to tell her.

No, now she was making too much out of her hallucinations. She just wanted to see Draco again somewhere, anywhere. _That_ was the real reason why she kept seeing and hearing him in his best friend. And _smelling_ him, she realized, remembering the scent that had enveloped her when she'd fallen into his arms no more than half an hour ago.

She couldn't wait for the war to be over.

Please, please let Harry and Voldemort believe her and Blaise. She wanted them to meet, wanted Harry to duel and win so that this would all end. As much as she enjoyed Blaise's company, she decided it would be best not to see him anymore as soon as this was over. He had too much of an effect on her, and she'd sworn that no one would ever take Draco's place.

She recalled the raw panic that had taken hold of her when she'd seen him take the hit for her. She hadn't even been able to hear properly, latching on to only two sounds: his labored breaths and the rushing blood in her ears. She couldn't let him affect her like that, not anymore.

But even as she thought of never seeing him again, she felt a familiar twinge in her chest. How could she simply leave the only person who ever reminded her of her beloved Draco?

_But it's not fair to him_, she told herself.

_He said that he doesn't care_, she snapped back.

_I couldn't possibly do that to him_.

But she was already doing it. Sighing, she got back to her feet and started toward the house. It'd be easier just to debate where they should go—anything to get her mind out of this rut.


	17. XVI Persuasion

**XVI. Persuasion**

_Draco threw her against the wall, and this time it hurt. But before she could protest, his lips had covered hers again. His hands were roaming across her body, but he was pressing very hard, gripping her tightly._

_With a mountain of effort, she turned her head away from him and gasped as he kissed his way down her neck and bit down, hard, at the base._

_Hermione cried out and pushed against his chest._

"_Draco, stop. Draco!"_

_He released her and backed up a step, and she noticed that he was glaring at her._

"_What's your problem?" she demanded._

_They were standing in the Prefects' bathroom on the fifth floor, naked. They'd been planning to meet here for a few days, but the timing was never right._

"_Nothing."_

"_Well there's obviously _something_ wrong, because you were hurting me," said Hermione through gritted teeth._

"_Was I?" said Draco in mock sarcasm. "I'm so sorry, I'll be gentler next time."_

"_What's gotten into you?"_

"_Nothing."_

"_Look, if you don't want to do this anymore, just say so, and I'll go," said Hermione, putting her hands on her hips._

_She refused to let her eyes wander anywhere on his body besides his eyes; she was already having a hard enough time suppressing the lusty impulses that those eyes alone were stirring up within her._

_When Draco didn't speak up, Hermione sighed. "Fine. I'll see you later."_

"_Wait," said Draco as she started walking past him._

_Hermione sighed again and looked up at him. "What?"_

_He seemed reluctant to speak._

"_Oh, spit it out, will you? Are you scared?"_

"_Weasley."_

_Something clicked, and Hermione couldn't help but smile. Draco glared at her._

_A few days ago, Hermione had gone to the library to read a book on vampire legends, but it had been checked out already. Disappointed, she had complained to Harry and Ron about it and had been excited to learn that Ron had seen that particular book at the house. At Hermione's request, Ron had owled his mum to send the book over._

_That morning in the Great Hall, Errol had arrived with the package, and after receiving it from Ron, Hermione had thanked him with a hug._

"_Draco, are you… jealous?"_

"_No!" Draco snapped, but his eyes betrayed him._

"_Oh my goodness, you are! I don't believe it! Draco Malfoy, jealous because of me!" she laughed._

_Draco snarled and launched himself at her._

_Hermione tried to move so that she'd be out of his reach, but she slipped on the wet floor and started falling into the large, pool-like tub. She grabbed onto Draco's arm to steady herself but only succeeded in pulling both of them into the tub with a giant splash._

_Her head was yanked above the water, and she barely had time to draw a quick breath before Draco swooped in for a bruising kiss._

_She wrapped her arms around him and met his fury with an equal amount of passion. He growled in approval and crushed her against him. She felt his erection against her lower abdomen and slid her hand down to grip it lightly._

_He groaned, throwing his head back, and she took the opportunity to slide her lips down his neck. She nipped at his Adam's apple as she slid her hand up and down in the water._

_Draco pulled her head back up and kissed her, pushing her hand out of the way and positioning himself at her entrance. She quivered in anticipation, and when he didn't move, she started to lower herself onto him. When he was about halfway in, he tightened his arms around her, restricting her movement._

_She wriggled in disappointment for a moment, and he backed his head up an inch to look at her expression. She was annoyed by the amused look on his face._

"_Wipe that smile off your face," she breathed._

"_Why don't you?"_

_She shoved his hands away from her, wrapped her legs around his waist and lowered herself onto him in one strong pull. He groaned._

"_I just did," she said._

_Then he jerked his hips upward, and she gasped. He pushed her back against the side of the tub and slowly pulled out. She was about to protest when he slammed home again, eliciting a loud cry from her. He repeated the motion several times, always bringing her so, so close. She glared at him and thrust her hips up to meet his the next time he plunged in, and he sank deeper into her. They both moaned._

_She wrapped her legs around his waist tightly, restricting his range of motion so that he couldn't pull out as far anymore. He stopped moving._

_Hermione wriggled against him._

"_Move, Draco," she demanded._

"_This is your punishment."_

"_Punishment? I only gave Ron a hug, Draco."_

"_I don't care. You're mine. You got that? You're _mine_," he growled in her ear._

_She thrust her hips against his in an attempt to get him to start moving again, but he had better control over his impulses than she'd expected._

"_Please…"_

_He pulled his head back to smirk at her._

"_Draco, move your arse!"_

_Hermione reached up to put her hands around his neck and pulled his head down so that she could kiss him. She massaged his tongue with hers and whimpered when he finally shifted a little inside her._

"_No—please, don't stop," she mumbled around his mouth._

_Draco started sliding in and out of her just a little, and she gasped in rhythm with his thrusts, grinding her hips against his. Even after she'd reached her climax, he continued to plunge into her mercilessly. She clung to his broad, firm shoulders tightly as the pleasure began to border on pain. She wanted to tell him to stop, but she couldn't stop moaning long enough to get out the words._

_Before she knew it, she was falling apart a second time. He called her name as he finally released his seed into her. Finally sated, he let his forehead fall into the crook of her neck._

"_Damn," Hermione murmured breathlessly into his shoulder. "I should make you jealous more often."_

Gentle hands shook her, and she stirred. She was surrounded by darkness, lying under a thick blanket. She yawned and remembered where she was.

_Blaise?_ She inquired mentally.

_Yeah, let's go._

She crawled out of the bed she was sharing with Ginny—they'd decided to let Luna have her own bed this time around. It had been two days since they arrived at Shell Cottage. Blaise had insisted that they leave for the Manor as soon as possible, but Hermione was unyielding in her decision that he had to rest until she said he was well enough to walk around. They'd compromised on two days of rest.

When she'd lain down to rest that night, she hadn't even bothered to undress. Ginny and Luna had gone to bed ahead of her, so she didn't have to worry about them.

She and Blaise made their way out of the cottage and walked toward the boundary. Hermione glanced back over her shoulder to see that a light was on in Harry's room. She gasped.

"It's all right. Harry knows," said Blaise.

"Yes, but—"

"I just talked to him. Ron and George are both asleep. He wanted to see us off, but I said that it'd be better for him to stay inside."

Hermione frowned but didn't argue. Neither Blaise nor Harry had been willing to share the details of the private conversation they'd had—Blaise had asked her very nicely not to force him to tell her about it, which meant that it must have been serious. She had decided to respect him. Just she'd become a slave owner didn't mean she had to act like one. But that didn't mean her curiosity wasn't killing her.

They reached the boundary and Disapparated, appearing before the Malfoy Manor moments later.

"Let's hope he's here," said Hermione.

Blaise nodded his agreement as they donned Death Eater robes and headed for the entrance. The front doors swung open as they approached, and they entered the mansion.

"The Dark Lord has been expecting you," said Bellatrix irritably. "What took so long?"

Hermione ignored the woman and moved toward the conference room with Blaise close behind her. She heard Bellatrix's footsteps behind them as well.

"Granger, stop right there."

Hermione turned around.

"First of all, the Dark Lord is not in the conference room, so you are going in the wrong direction. Second of all, you can't simply dismiss me like that. When I ask you a question, you _will_ answer me."

"Where is the Dark Lord, then?" asked Hermione.

She couldn't understand why she was feeling so impatient. Maybe it was because she was so tired of this situation and the constant state of heightened awareness she'd been in since the beginning of this ordeal. Or maybe it was just because she was sick of listening to that high-pitched voice.

She heard Blaise's voice in her head. _Be patient._

Bellatrix smiled. "Your dog seems to have outsmarted you this time, Granger."

Hermione forced a smile onto her face, frustrated with herself for letting down her guard. But before she could reply, Voldemort swept into the entrance hall.

"It is about time you came," he said. "Follow me."

He glided down the hall, and Hermione and Blaise hurried after him. They stopped in the study, and Voldemort waved his hand to shut the door behind them. Hermione was pleased to see that he had left Bellatrix outside.

"Well?" he said expectantly.

"Potter has agreed to go, but with one condition," said Blaise. "He wants me to be hiding beneath the stands, in one of the maintenance shafts under the stadium so that I can help him if he needs it."

"Does he know about the barrier I will place around the fight?"

"No," said Blaise, "but I don't think that his demand is a bad idea."

"Explain."

"I do not mean to undermine your skills, My Lord, but I think it'd be prudent to be prepared for every possible scenario. If Potter somehow manages to get the upper hand, wouldn't it be a good idea to have someone waiting under the stands, prepared to back you up?"

Voldemort stared at Blaise for a long moment, and Hermione found herself holding her breath. She wasn't sure if it would be wise to speak up while he was still considering Blaise's proposal, so she held her tongue. She didn't quite know how she would defend their proposal anyway. Merlin, did he already know what they were planning?

She steeled herself and put up the walls around her mind. She couldn't fret so openly in Voldemort's presence; that would be a dead giveaway.

Finally, Voldemort spoke.

"If it is the Potter boy's desire for you to be under the stands during the match, then that is where you will be. But to risk opening a hole in that barrier, with potential for being struck down… such a suggestion makes me question your loyalty, boy."

He turned to Hermione.

"Granger, what are your thoughts?"

"My Lord, you know how much I want Harry Potter to die. Zabini is my slave. He cannot defy my orders. If I give him the order to kill or restrain Potter, he cannot do otherwise."

Voldemort nodded. "You make a good argument."

He didn't say anything more, and Hermione attempted to stifle the anxiety that was rumbling inside her. She couldn't lose control over her mind, not when such a powerful Legilimens was in the room.

Just as this thought crossed her mind, she felt that familiar probing sensation. She focused carefully on the specific memories that needed to be hidden away—the proper walls were already in place, and she simply had to make sure that the intruder never noticed their existence.

He began to flip through her memories. She was racing into the kitchen at Grimmauld Place to attack Death Eaters. She was surprised by the face behind the Death Eater mask—Lavender Brown. She lost her footing and tumbled into Blaise's arms. She sat in the kitchen with the others, wondering how the Death Eaters had gotten in. Blaise collapsed on the ground in front of her, spurting blood. She wondered what Harry and Blaise could have been talking about.

Hermione flinched instinctively as he reached that memory, and he zoned in on it, much to her displeasure. She couldn't force him out of that memory even if she'd wanted to, at this point.

She was asking Blaise what he had told Harry, and Blaise asked her very, very nicely not to force him to tell her.

Something in that exchange seemed to interest Voldemort, and he began to flip farther back.

She took the cup out of the air and peered at the silver liquid inside apprehensively. She sat down at the café in front of the Ministry and looked at Blaise as he ordered a vanilla latte. She took a deep breath when she felt his lips press against hers…

Then Hermione was released. She was mortified that Voldemort had chosen to go through those memories and wondered why in the world he would be interested in them. She glanced at him to see that he was glaring at Blaise, livid. Her heart rate sped up considerably in concern for her partner.

"Granger, wait outside. Do not come back inside until you are summoned."

Hermione walked out of the room slowly, daring a peek at the pair just before she pulled the doors shut. Blaise had his back to her, so she couldn't see his face. Voldemort still looked furious. The doors closed silently, and she nervously paced back and forth in front of them.

What happened? Why was he so angry? Was Blaise not supposed to have kissed her? She bit her lip, remembering the fear that had emanated from him just before the kiss. What would Voldemort do to him? She prayed that he would be all right—damn Potter and the World Cup, she didn't want Blaise to die here, today. Then her only connection to Draco would be severed.

No, that was the wrong attitude. If Blaise died, she would volunteer herself to hide under those stands and provide Harry with backup. And then after Voldemort was dead, she would finally see whether or not she had the will to kill Harry.

What was taking so long?

She stopped her pacing. She had to calm down—it really hadn't been that long. Maybe only a minute had passed since she left the room. She took a few deep breaths and moved to stand against a wall. Blaise was going to be okay. Maybe if she kept telling herself that, it would come true.

After what felt like a decade, the doors swung inward, and Blaise stepped out. He beckoned for her, and she reentered the room.

"My Lord?" she said, bowing her head.

"I accept your proposition," he said quietly.

Hermione blinked, unable to hide her surprise. She'd expected something awful to come out of the fury that had been evident on his face just before she exited the room.

"As for the Death Eaters who went into Grimmauld Place _without_ my orders, they will be duly punished. I warn you, your dear Remus Lupin is not as faithful as you thought," he added. "You are dismissed. Do not return before the World Cup unless there is an emergency."

"Yes, My Lord," said Hermione and Blaise simultaneously.

Voldemort waved a long, pale hand at them, and they backed out of the room. They walked out of the Manor in silence, thankful that Bellatrix was nowhere to be seen. As soon as they reached the front gates, Hermione grabbed Blaise's arm and Disapparated.

They appeared in her flat a moment later.

"What happened in there?" she asked.

"Hermione, _please_ don't make me tell you," said Blaise quietly.

"I want to know."

"I promise, I'll tell you everything once this is over."

Hermione sighed. "What if we die?"

"Then it won't matter anymore, will it?" replied Blaise.

She threw her hands up in exasperation and moved toward the small hallway.

"Where are you going?" Blaise asked.

"I'm going to sleep."

"We should go back to Shell Cottage to sleep."

"I can't deal with all of those people right now," said Hermione. She was pulling open the door to the bedroom she'd shared with Draco.

"What about Lupin? Do you think Voldemort was telling the truth?" Blaise asked from behind her.

Hermione groaned in frustration and collapsed onto the bed. "I don't _care_ right now. I don't want to deal with any of this anymore. I want to fall into dreamless sleep and just _stay_ there for a while. So will you stop pestering me?"

"No. We should—"

"Blaise, please don't make me give you a command to leave me alone," she mumbled into the pillow.

There was no audible response. She flipped over and saw him standing in the doorway, watching her. He had a very sad look in his eyes, and she felt her heart melting. His eyes met hers, and he slowly walked toward her.

"This place…" he murmured.

She didn't know what he had intended on saying next and found that she didn't really care. He sat on the bed beside her and reached out his right hand to cup her cheek. She suddenly wished that he would kiss her again.

No… she couldn't ask that of him. She needed him to leave her alone, needed him out of reach before she did something she would regret.

"Blaise," she whispered, "please leave this room."

The look of understanding in his eyes as he pulled his hand back almost tore her resolve to shreds. She hated that he understood her so well, hated that he was so devoted to her. It was impossible for her to treat him as a normal friend—he seemed to be so much more than that.

Their eyes never broke contact as he backed up, one step at a time, toward the door. Every step took him a bit farther from her. She desperately wished he would come back. She fought the urge to give him another command, and her lips twitched.

"All you have to do is ask."

The words clearly came out of Blaise's mouth, but she heard Draco's voice. That voice reminded her of how wrong it would be to take advantage of him like that. She shook her head minutely, without taking her eyes off his. Then she blinked, and she was looking into grey eyes. Her eyes began to well up.

Blaise took that final step out of the room and into the hallway, and pulled the door shut.

As soon as the door closed, Hermione rolled over and sobbed into the pillow, both reassured and devastated by the fact that Blaise wouldn't be able to come back in until she asked him to.

It had been almost a year since Draco's death. Every day had been painful, but she'd never felt as lonely as she did now. More than ever, she longed to feel his touch, to hear the sound of his voice, to savor the taste of his lips and tongue, to see the way his eyes sparkled when he looked at her.

She didn't want Blaise at all. She wanted the bit of Draco that she saw in him. And it'd be too, too wrong to use him for that.

She cried for Draco, for Blaise, for herself.

"_Draco, this is a terrible idea. I won't go with it."_

"_Yes, you will."_

"_You can't make me."_

_Draco grinned. "Yes, I can."_

_Hermione placed her hands on her hips and glared at him. She wouldn't be swayed._

"_Oh come on, Hermione. It took such a good Confundus Charm to get us the invitations. Are you really going to let all my hard work go to waste?"_

"_That was your stupid idea. You should have asked me first."_

"_Well, it would have been pointless to ask if I didn't have the invitations already."_

"_And why is that?"_

"_Because if I couldn't get the invitations, I would have asked you for nothing."_

"_I wouldn't have blamed you."_

"_All right then, I'll ask first next time. Will you go put this on _now?_"_

_He brandished a box at her, and she folded her arms across her chest._

"_No."_

_Draco put the box down on the coffee table and threw his hands up in frustration. He ran a hair through his perfect blonde hair and heaved a sigh._

"_Fine, if you _really_ don't want to go…"_

_Hermione tuned out. She had been distracted by the way his hair flopped back down into his eyes after he ran his hand through it, partially obscuring those swirling, silver eyes. Her eyes roamed over his body. He was wearing a Muggle suit—a sleek, black dinner jacket over a fresh white shirt and a deep-green silk tie, with simple black trousers. She hadn't seen him in fancy Muggle dress before, and he looked absolutely immaculate, faultless._

_Draco suddenly stopped talking, and she smiled up at him._

"_You haven't been listening at all, have you?" he asked._

_Instead of responding, she took a step toward him, slid her hands over his shoulders and around to the back of his neck, and leaned up to tug on his lower lip with her teeth. He groaned and pulled her flush against him, attacking her lips with his._

_When he stopped his assault on her lips, she could feel his erection pressing against her lower abdomen, and she felt hot all over._

"_Still want to go to that party?" she asked him breathlessly._

_He nipped her nose, and she giggled._

"_Of course I do," he said._

_Hermione sighed. "What if we get caught? Wouldn't it be much better to stay here and make the most of our time?"_

"_This was supposed to be something nice for you. I thought girls liked dances. And besides, you looked like you had so much fun at the Yule Ball… especially _after_ the ball."_

_Hermione's cheeks flushed as she remembered their first time._

"_Come on, Hermione. Go get changed. We're going to be late if you don't change soon."_

"_Fine," she said, relenting._

"_That's my girl."_

_Draco pressed his lips to her forehead. Then he reached down and picked up the box on the table, giving it to her. Hermione rolled her eyes at him and went into the bedroom they shared to change. She closed the door behind her and put the box on the bed. She took the lid off and lifted the dress out of the box. It was a silk floor-length dress with a halter top, colored the same deep green as Draco's tie._

_Hermione smiled. Of course he would choose green._

_A few minutes later, she walked back out of the bedroom fully dressed. She'd put on a pair of her old high heels. They were black, two-inch, closed-toe heels that she felt were appropriate for the occasion, which was a private ball thrown by the Muggle Prime Minister for the first birthday of his youngest son._

_Draco turned when he heard the door open, and she watched as his grey eyes darkened with lust. The dress clung in all the right places, and she had to admit that he had excellent taste. She approached him slowly, aware that his eyes were focused on her body._

"_You're beautiful," he said, meeting her eyes as she reached him._

_She smiled. "You picked a nice dress."_

"_I like what you did with your hair," said Draco. "It's not that I don't love your normal bushy look, but this, it makes you look so much more elegant."_

_She'd swept her hair up into a bun, exposing her long neck. A few softly curled locks dangled down to rest on her shoulder._

"_So, how are we getting to this ball?" Hermione asked._

"_Ready?"_

_Hermione raised an eyebrow. "We're not Apparating there, are we? I'm sure it would take more than a Confundus Charm to explain how we appeared out of thin air."_

"_We're going to Apparate to a hotel room a few blocks away."_

"_And then?"_

"_Just trust me. I'll get us there in style."_

_She rolled her eyes. "All right, let's go then."_

_Draco gripped her arm, and they Disapparated. When they reappeared, Hermione saw a lavishly decorated room with a giant bed and rose petals all over. She shook her head._

"_Draco, why—"_

"_This is for tonight," he said with a grin. "Come on."_

"_Is this a honeymoon suite?"_

"_Is something wrong with that?"_

"_No. It's just—"_

"_All right, then. Let's go."_

_Draco grabbed her hand and led her out of the room and down the hall to the elevator. They exited the hotel lobby about a minute later. A limousine was already there, waiting. The chauffeur held open the door for Hermione and Draco, and after they got into the vehicle, he skipped around to the other side to drive._

"_You didn't have to do all this," said Hermione. "Honestly, I—"_

"_Of course I had to do this," said Draco with a small smile. "I missed our first two anniversaries because I was too stupid to realize I was in love with you, so I have to make it up to you this time."_

_Hermione's eyes began to well up, and Draco suddenly looked distressed._

"_What—what's wrong?"_

"_No, it's just… I'm just being a silly, sentimental teenage girl," Hermione replied, wiping away a few tears._

_Draco chuckled. "I must be doing something right, if I've moved you to tears."_

_Hermione punched his shoulder playfully, and they shared a laugh. She linked arms with him and rested her head on his shoulder, sighing happily._

"_You've done everything right, Draco. Everything."_

* * *

**Author's Note:** I'm struggling with how I want the next few chapters to go (I've already rewritten them a few times), so I can't make any promises on when I'll be updating again. I won't keep you waiting too long, though!


	18. XVII Flight

**XVII. Flight**

_Hermione laughed as she spun to a quickstep. Draco tugged her back into his arms, and the music gradually transitioned to a slow waltz. She looked up into his eyes and smiled._

"_Where did you learn to dance?" she asked._

"_Most Pureblood families have their kids trained in skills for high society when they're really young. I'm not an exception. How about you?"_

"_I took a class one summer at home," said Hermione, blushing._

"_You're not bad."_

"_What are you talking about? I'll have you know that my instructor called my dancing superb."_

_Draco laughed. "Maybe your dance instructor was just trying to hit on you."_

_Hermione pouted. "I resent your implication that I'm a bad dancer."_

"_Well hey, you always said that you'd hex me if I lied to you," said Draco, smirking._

"_I don't want to dance with you anymore, you git."_

_He laughed again, but she sensed that this wasn't a sincere laugh. She frowned, but he turned and dragged her off the dance floor before she could say anything. They skirted around other couples._

"_What are you doing?" she asked him when they were near the side of the room._

"_We should probably go," he replied._

_She noticed that he was looking across the room anxiously. She turned her head in an attempt to see what he was looking at and caught a glimpse of Antonin Dolohov, a Death Eater. She gasped—hadn't she wiped his memory back at Tottenham Court Road? What was he doing here?_

_Draco led her out of the room, but not before she saw him recognize her and head in her direction._

_They were in a small, empty entrance hall. Draco turned to the side and pulled open what looked like just a normal section of the wall. He gave her a light push._

"_Get in there."_

"_But—"_

"_Don't argue with me."_

"_Draco, I won't—"_

"_We don't have _time_ for this!" he hissed agitatedly, shoving her into the small room, which she quickly discovered was a compartment for holding coats._

_There was a tiny peephole that was probably disguised among the artful swirls of paint on the outside wall, and she peered out to see Draco draw his wand, pointing it at the part of the wall where she was hidden. She gasped—he was probably sealing her inside!_

_Her first thought was that he might have betrayed her at last, luring her here and then contacting Dolohov. But she immediately dismissed that idea—he could have simply killed her himself at any time. Why bother with such an elaborate set-up?_

_Then he was going to duel Dolohov for her. What if he died? Her heart leaped into her throat, and she prayed fervently that he would pretend nothing was wrong and that he'd chased "Mudblood Granger" out into the entrance hall and watched her Disapparate._

"_Please, please, _please_ don't take on Antonin Dolohov alone…" she whispered._

_Then the door leading to the ballroom opened, and Dolohov walked in, shutting the door behind him._

"_Malfoy," he said, mildly surprised. "Where's the Mudblood?"_

"_I didn't see her. Is Rowle here?"_

_Dolohov eyed Draco suspiciously. "Yes, in disguise. He's still sore about the last time. I wouldn't wander around near him when the Dark Lord isn't around to protect you."_

_Protect? Voldemort _protected_ Draco? That sounded unlikely._

_Draco smirked. "I'm not afraid of the likes of him. Where is he?"_

"_Just outside. Now tell me, boy, _where_ is the Mudblood?"_

"_You're going to want to show me some more respect, Dolohov."_

"_Are you really so sure that the Dark Lord would choose you, some scrawny little brat, over a man who has served him since the beginning?"_

"_My father may have lost the Dark Lord's good opinion, but I have not. And you would do well to remember who last tortured whom between the two of us."_

_Dolohov shot Draco a particularly nasty glare, and Hermione bit her lip, worried for Draco's life. Was this what he dealt with on a daily basis? He looked as though he was completely at ease, but upon closer inspection, his grip on his wand was so tight that his knuckles had turned white._

"_If you know what's good for you, you'll summon Rowle and explain to me why the two of you are here," said Draco._

_Hermione's brow creased. Was he really above Dolohov in the Death Eaters' pecking order?_

_Dolohov never stopped glaring at Draco as he turned around to face the door. He pulled open the door and made some sort of hand motion. Then he shut the door and turned back around to face Draco._

"_He'll be here in a minute."_

"_Perfect."_

_Draco smiled, but Hermione noticed that the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. Then he raised his wand, and she frowned. What did he think he was going to do? She glanced at Dolohov to see that behind all the fury, he seemed almost uneasy._

"_Malfoy, you do know that if—"_

"_I know perfectly well what the consequences will be."_

_What were they talking about?_

_Then a jet of green light erupted from the end of Draco's wand, and Dolohov crumpled to the ground, eyes still wide open in shock. Hermione's jaw dropped. He had just killed one of Voldemort's faithful followers. It was one thing when he killed two insignificant cronies, but Dolohov? Her heart pounded so loudly in her chest that she almost thought he would be able to hear it through the closet._

_The ballroom door opened again, and a woman walked in. She reached for a hidden pocket in her dress, but Draco was too quick for her. With one wave of his wand, the woman fell onto the ground, shrieking in pain._

_Why weren't any Muggles rushing in from the ballroom? Had one of them cast an Imperturbable Charm on the door? She bit her lip. This woman had to be Rowle in disguise._

_Draco walked over to the woman and lifted his wand. She was panting on the ground, relieved that the pain had stopped. He reached down into her pocket and pulled out a wand. He tossed it across the room and pointed his wand at the woman again._

"_Please—please don't, Malfoy."_

_Draco raised his eyebrows._

"_Please, I beg of you. I'll tell you anything you want to know."_

_Hermione frowned. When had Rowle become such a complete wimp? Or perhaps he'd always been a coward—she'd never known much about him anyway. She'd always just assumed that he was fearless because he was a proficient duelist and one of the more trusted Death Eaters._

"_All right, then. Tell me why you were sent here."_

"_There were whispers."_

"_Whispers of what?"_

"_They were about—about the girl who's always with Harry Potter. Granger. The Mudblood."_

"_What did they say?"_

_The woman looked fearful—Draco's wand was still pointed right at her—but she continued to speak, "I promise I don't believe the rumors. I came just to prove to the others that they weren't—"_

"_Just tell me what they were," said Draco._

_The Polyjuice Potion had begun to fade, and she recognized the face that was left behind. That was definitely Thorfinn Rowle._

"_Someone said that that Mudblood was… was with you, M-M-Malfoy."_

_Draco smiled, and Rowle looked more terrified than before._

"_Does the Dark Lord know of this rumor?"_

"_No, of course not. We would never make this type of accusation without verifying it first," said Rowle._

"_Who did you hear it from?"_

"_G-Goyle."_

_Draco nodded. "I'll have to speak to him, then."_

_There was an uneasy pause during which Rowle looked longingly at his wand, lying so far from him._

"_Did anyone else come with the two of you?" Draco asked._

_Rowle shook his head._

"_Perfect."_

_Rowle's eyes widened, but before he had time to protest, another jet of green light had shot from the tip of Draco's wand, and he too fell to the ground, dead._

_Hermione covered her mouth with her hand. She was appalled that he would kill both of them for her sake. Was he really as favored with Voldemort as he said he was? How would he ever justify killing two of the most faithful Death Eaters?_

_Then the door to the closet compartment was pulled open, and Draco held out his hand._

"_Come on out," he said with a small forced smile._

"_You don't have to smile," said Hermione. "I saw what you did. It's nothing to smile about."_

_He looked down. "I didn't want you to have to see that…"_

"_Draco—"_

"_We should go."_

"_What about them?" asked Hermione, gesturing to the two bodies on the ground._

_Rowle looked almost laughable, clad in an elegant Muggle dress, but the empty, glazed look in his eyes wiped all the humor out of the image. Dolohov lay spread-eagled on the ground, that last expression of surprise still etched on his face._

_Draco shook his head. "It'll be fine. The Muggles will take them off somewhere and try to figure out how they died. I'll take care of it."_

"_But—"_

"_No buts. We have to go."_

_Draco gripped her elbow tightly, and they Disapparated. They appeared back in their flat a few minutes later, and he sat her down on the couch._

"_Draco, please explain."_

"_Look, we agreed never to exchange information or to betray each other. I won't betray you, and I believe that you won't betray me. Don't ask."_

"_This is clearly an exception. How can you expect me to hear and see all that and not ask you anything?"_

"_Hermione, please don't ask."_

"_Why did Dolohov say Voldemort would protect you?"_

_Draco shook his head again, anger flashing in his eyes._

"_Why was he so obedient to you? Aren't he and Rowle really important figures?"_

"_Stop it."_

"_Answer me!"_

"_I don't ask you about the Horcruxes, or what you and Potter and Weasley are planning to do. I don't ask you anything, Hermione. Don't—"_

"_You know I won't tell anyone, Draco. You can trust me."_

"_You wouldn't tell anyone of your own will, but can you really guarantee that you won't say anything under Veritaserum? Just stop asking."_

_Hermione glared at him. "We said that we would be honest to each other."_

"_And I _am_ being honest to you! When have I ever lied to you? Give me one example, and I'll tell you everything."_

_He had her there. She couldn't come up with a single instance._

"_Well, if you were lying and I never found out, then obviously I wouldn't know," she said._

"_You can say that about any honest person."_

_She groaned in frustration. "Draco, I don't understand—"_

"_It's to protect me, to protect you. To protect _us_. The less we know about each other's goals, the better. We agreed that if anyone ever even suspected us, we would end it. But I'm not about to give you up, not after all this time. I already know Goyle Sr. was the one who told Rowle and Dolohov. I'll follow the trail backwards to the source."_

"_But what will happen when Voldemort finds out about the people that you killed?"_

"_He doesn't have to know that I killed them," said Draco. "Look, Hermione, I'll take care of everything. I promise, it won't be a problem. But we probably shouldn't see each other for a little while. The jade will light up three times when I've cleaned everything up."_

_Hermione stood up and put her arms around his neck. "I'm worried for you. I don't know what I'll do if you—"_

"_Nothing will happen to me. I'll be careful—I'll make sure I stay alive, just for you."_

"_So… I guess this is the last time we'll be together for a while," said Hermione in a small voice._

_Draco nodded and pressed his lips to hers briefly. "We can take maybe an hour. I don't know where Goyle is right now, but Greg told me his father was coming to visit him very late tonight. I'll be able to catch him at his house."_

"_Let's make the most of it, then."_

_Draco smiled grimly. "Has the mood from the ball been killed already?"_

_Hermione looked into his silver eyes and smiled. "I have a man who would do anything for us to be together. I'm not in a terrible mood."_

"_Good."_

_Their lips locked, and Hermione decided to let her brain switch off, if only for an hour._

Hermione sat up with a jolt and looked around. Draco was gone, she reminded herself. But she was still in the flat…? Why was she…

Then Hermione remembered the meeting with Voldemort and all of the things that had been on her mind. She couldn't even remember falling asleep. Her eyes felt puffy—she must have cried herself to sleep. She got to her feet and rubbed her eyes before walking to the door and pulling it open.

She squealed in surprise as Blaise fell onto his back and into the room. He woke up and instantly jolted upright.

"Sorry—I—"

"Did you fall asleep leaning against the door?"

Blaise nodded.

"Why didn't you sleep on the couch? It would have been a lot more comfortable."

"I just…" he got to his feet and turned to face her, "…couldn't bring myself to leave you alone."

Her eyes began to burn as they threatened to well up again. "Blaise, you can't do this to me," she said, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry."

He backed into the hallway and started walking away. Hermione followed him out into the living room.

"We should probably go back to Shell Cottage now," she said.

He nodded. "Do you want to talk about what Voldemort said first? Is there any possibility that Lupin would betray the Order?"

"I don't think so. We should be careful, either way."

"Should we tell anyone?"

Hermione considered it. What would the others do? If she mentioned that Voldemort himself had said it… there were really only two possible types of reactions. The first was that they'd believe Voldemort and lay down a trap for Lupin. The second was that they would think he was lying and that Lupin was innocent.

"Maybe we should tell them so that they'll be more careful around him if he shows up," she said.

"That makes sense. Are you ready to go?"

"Yes. What time is it?"

"Nine in the morning."

Hermione sighed. "Damn it. What are we going to tell them?"

"It's all right. Harry knew we were leaving. I told him that if we weren't back by morning, he could tell the others that the Dark Mark burned, and you had to leave, and I went with you to that same place—the usual."

"You always think of everything, don't you?"

He smiled in reply.

Hermione reached for his arm. "Ready?"

"Yeah, let's go."

She gripped his arm tightly, and they Disapparated.

When they walked into the boundary surrounding Shell Cottage, Harry was standing just inside the living room window, looking outward. They entered the house a few minutes later.

"Is everything all right, Hermione?" asked Ginny, getting up from her seat on the couch.

She had been sitting between George and Luna. Terry and Michael were on the other couch, and Ron was leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest. Harry had been standing in front of the living room window, but now he had turned away from the window to face the new arrivals, letting the curtain fall back into place.

"Well… there's something I should tell all of you," said Hermione.

"What is it? Has Voldemort said anything?" asked Terry.

Hermione noticed that Blaise and Harry were exchanging glances. Blaise nodded, and Harry nodded in response. Since when did they start getting along so well?

"Did he say something about what happened at Grimmauld Place?" asked George.

"That's what I was going to tell you. But before I say anything, I just want to warn you. Don't jump to conclusions."

There were nods all around the room.

"All right, then. Voldemort mentioned the attack at Grimmauld Place, and then he said to beware of Lupin."

"He's lying!" said Ron immediately.

"Oh shut up Ron, didn't you hear Hermione _just_ say that we shouldn't jump to conclusions?" said Ginny.

"Did he say anything else?" asked Michael.

Hermione shook her head. "The only other thing he mentioned was that it actually wasn't under his command," she replied.

"The hell it wasn't," said Terry. "Since when do Death Eaters do anything without being told?"

"How much do you think you know about Death Eaters?" asked Blaise. "Honestly, I think most of them don't even _see_ him."

"Yeah, _you_ would know," George grumbled.

"Well he does have a point," said Harry, surprising Hermione. He was going to stick up for Blaise now? Harry continued, "I mean, you remember the year that the Chamber of Secrets was opened, don't you? That was Lucius Malfoy's doing, and Voldemort wasn't around to give him that order."

"Still, you'd think that Death Eaters would have to ask or something before attacking _us_," said Terry.

"That's beside the point right now," said Michael. "Does Lupin know about this place?"

George nodded. "Yeah, he dropped by a few times before."

"So if he can't find us at Grimmauld Place, he'll probably check here," said Michael.

"We should keep a lookout for him," said Harry. "I don't think Lupin would ever betray us, but it can't hurt to be careful."

Just then, they heard a loud banging against the door.

"Any idea who it could be?" Terry hissed.

"It's me, Lupin!" came a muffled voice from outside.

"Speak of the devil…" muttered Michael.

Everyone had gotten to their feet, and the room felt extremely crowded.

"Just stay calm," said Harry quietly. "Wands out though, everybody."

He started toward the door, but Blaise held up his hand, stopping him.

"I'll open it," he said in a low voice—he was closer to the door.

Blaise turned around and pulled the door open.

Lupin wasn't alone—on the doorstep, another figure slumped heavily against him. His hair was white and matted, and his face held many wrinkles. It took Hermione a moment to recognize him.

"Mr. Ollivander!" exclaimed Luna, hurrying over to the door.

She helped Lupin support the old wandmaker into the room, and Blaise shut the door behind them.

"What happened?" asked George, getting out of his seat immediately to leave a couch vacant for Ollivander. Ginny stepped around the coffee table and out of the way.

"I found him—he'd escaped from captivity," said Lupin.

"But I thought you said you'd found a safe place for him," said Hermione.

"Yes, I thought I had. I even placed it under the Fidelius Charm before moving him from Muriel's—about a year ago. I didn't want to be Secret-Keeper, though, because that'd be too obvious."

Harry let his face fall into his hands. "Don't tell me you made the same mistake you made with my parents," he groaned quietly.

"You chose Mundungus, didn't you?" said Hermione.

Lupin looked at Ollivander apologetically, but his expression quickly changed to worry, and he asked, "What—what's wrong?"

Hermione and the others looked over at Ollivander to see that he had a look of absolute horror on his face. He pointed a shaking finger toward the door, and heads whipped in that direction to see what he was terrified of.

Hermione's stomach plummeted. He was pointing right at Blaise.

"Zabini?" said George. "Mr. Ollivander, are you pointing at Zabini?"

The old man couldn't make a sound, but his head moved in a slight motion that could possibly be interpreted as a nod.

_Blaise, what's going on?_ Hermione asked through their mental connection.

Blaise didn't answer, and Hermione glanced over to see that he was looking at Harry. The two of them seemed to reach some silent mutual understanding.

"Why is Ollivander afraid of you, Zabini?" George demanded.

"Did you do something to him?" asked Terry.

"I _knew_ he wasn't really one of us," said Ron.

"Don't just leap to conclusions like that, Ronald," said Hermione sharply.

Without a warning, Blaise yanked the door open and bolted out. Lupin, who was next closest to the door and had the fastest reflexes, raced after him, shooting a jet of red light from the tip of his wand. Suddenly Blaise was on a broom—Hermione remembered that he'd kept one in that pouch of his that had the Undetectable Extension Charm on it. His body twitched once, and Hermione wondered if Lupin had hit him with a curse.

Hermione also hurried out of the house, followed by George, Harry and Ginny, and then Michael, Terry and Ron. As Blaise drew closer to the boundary of the Anti-Disapparition Jinx, his broom jerked violently, and he was thrown off. However, his momentum carried him forward, and that last bit served to be enough to pass the boundary—he vanished in midair.

"Leaping to conclusions, eh, Hermione?" said Ron heatedly as he stomped back toward the house.

Lupin sighed as he returned to the others. "I tried a Hurling Hex, but it was too late. Let's go back inside."

He walked past the others, who were still looking at the place where Blaise had disappeared. Hermione wondered what the lot of them thought of him now. Why had he just taken off like that? And he shouldn't have been able to just ignore her question like that.

"Harry, Hermione! Aren't you two coming in?" Michael called from the doorway.

Hermione started and turned back toward the house. She glanced over her shoulder to see Harry still looking at the place where Blaise had disappeared. Honestly, _what_ had happened between the two of them? She couldn't understand why Harry trusted him so much all of a sudden.

As she reentered the cottage, she reached out with her mind. _Blaise?_

There was no response, and she suddenly felt very alone.

_Blaise, answer me. That's an order!_

_I'm here._

He sounded extremely reluctant. Hermione leaned against the wall by the door, where Blaise had been standing earlier.

_Why don't you explain yourself?_

_Shouldn't you be paying attention to what the Order is going to do next? Worry about me later._

_I'm not _worrying_ about you, I'm furious with you! Can't you feel my emotions? I'm not _asking_ you to explain yourself, I'm _demanding_ it._

"Hermione?" said Harry, shaking her shoulder.

"Yes, I'm fine," she snapped irritably. _Fine_, she thought to Blaise, _you'll explain everything the next time I see you. You will not protest or argue, or hide from me, for that matter. I'll punish you if you do._

As Hermione took a few steps toward everyone else, she heard Blaise's snarky comment, _I hope you do. I love punishments._

_That isn't funny_.

"Mr. Ollivander told me that Zabini was the one who kidnapped him," said Luna from the couch—she had seated herself beside Ollivander.

"I _knew_ there was something wrong with him," said Ron, looking at Hermione with accusing eyes.

"I never liked him either," said Ginny.

Hermione sighed. "I'm sorry, everyone—especially you, Mr. Ollivander. I brought Zabini to us."

"You didn't know this would happen," said Harry. "He must have been good, if he fooled even you. Hell, even I thought he could be all right, since nothing happened in all this time."

"Lupin, how did you know to come here?" asked Terry.

"I returned to Grimmauld Place and found it in ruins. There weren't any Death Eaters inside, and all of you were gone. The Ministry workers were gone too—did you manage to take them with you?"

Hermione gasped—she'd completely forgotten about them. By the shocked looks on all the others' faces, they had forgotten as well.

"The Death Eaters must have taken them," said Michael.

"Lupin… forgive me for asking, but what is your son's full name?" asked Harry.

Lupin frowned. "You don't trust me?"

"It's just that—"

"It's because of me," said Hermione. "Voldemort told me that the attack at Grimmauld Place… that you had something to do with it."

"Naturally he would want to sow internal conflict between us. I don't blame any of you for suspecting me. My son is Teddy Remus Lupin. And I chose you, Harry, to be his godfather."

"What is my Patronus?" asked Harry.

"A stag."

"Is it the real Lupin, then?" asked Terry.

Harry nodded.

"But we don't know if he betrayed us or not," said Michael quietly. "I wouldn't want to believe it, but the real Lupin could still betray us."

"Well, I learned a fair bit of Legilimency," said Hermione. "I can check his memories."

"Do we _have_ to do that?" asked Ron. "It's _Lupin_. He wouldn't—"

"No, no. I think it'd be better if Hermione did check, so that we'll all know the truth," said Lupin.

The others fell silent as Hermione turned and pointed her wand at Lupin.

"I'm really sorry," she said.

He only nodded.

"Legilimens."

Lupin's mind was like a maze, more complicated than any other mind Hermione had ever penetrated. She attempted to focus on the words, "Number 12, Grimmauld Place," as much as possible, but periods of blurry recollections kept stabbing into the memories that she was watching.

She saw the kitchen of Grimmauld Place filled with Weasleys, and everyone was in a relatively cheerful mood, sitting down to dinner. This memory was before the Battle at Hogwarts, and everyone was still alive.

Suddenly, a hazy, green-tinted image of the dark interior of a room blocked everything out. Scratches covered the walls, and Lupin howled.

She again focused in on Grimmauld Place, looking for more recent memories.

As always, she was extremely conscious of her subject's discomfort as she rooted through his mind, and she bit her lip in concentration. It wouldn't do to pity him now and simply give up.

The front door of Number 12 materialized before her, and Lupin pried it open. She could sense the shock he felt as he looked around the room—scorch marks covered the walls, along with some splatters of blood. The whole place smelled of smoke, and Lupin deduced that there had been a battle.

Then she hurtled along with him down a dark corridor. Everything was tinted green, and she supposed that this was his werewolf form. He clawed a door open and saw a few werewolves who were clearly familiar to him. He howled something at them that Hermione didn't understand.

Did these werewolf memories surface so often in his mind? She shuddered at the thought.

She pushed that recollection away, returning to the one she'd been looking at before the interruption. He went down the hall into the kitchen and opened the hidden door into the basement, only to find that it was empty. She watched him race all through the house, searching for survivors. At the top floor, he muttered, "Homenum Revelio." When there was no reaction, he quickly rushed down to the first floor, worried out of his wits. He was about to leave when Mundungus Fletcher Apparated onto the doorstep.

Suddenly Harry's face floated in front of Hermione's vision, with that same green tint. Oh, this must have been third year. Lupin started toward Harry, but stopped as his ears picked up the sound of a howl in the distance. He leapt in that direction.

Hermione pulled out of Lupin's mind and lowered her wand, and he staggered back a few steps. Harry and George hurried to support him. He composed himself and gently brushed them aside when he could stand again.

"I'm pretty sure Lupin didn't do it," Hermione reported.

Ginny let out a sigh of relief. "I knew Lupin couldn't do it."

The others looked relieved as well.

"Lupin, before you left Grimmauld Place, you saw Mundungus. What happened after that?" asked Hermione.

"He was there to ask for help. Death Eaters had just invaded Muriel's home," said Lupin. "And now I feel it's only a matter of time before they make it here. Someone important from the Order _must_ be in the hands of the Death Eaters."

"But… almost none of the Order knows where Aunt Muriel lives," said Ron.

George nodded. "Outside the family, I really don't know who…" his voice faded, and his face fell.

"George, what's wrong?" asked Terry.

Hermione understood immediately what had crossed his mind. "George, I don't think there's any way it could possibly be your dad. Don't worry."

"No," said Ron. "Dad would _never_—"

"We should consider every possibility, shouldn't we?" said George. "Dad was Secret-Keeper for Aunt Muriel's home. And he's still alive. If all that stuff you said about the Fidelius Charm was true, then he's the only person who could have led the Death Eaters there."

A heavy silence fell over the group. Hermione racked her brains trying to come up with a way for someone else to have given the location of Muriel's home.

"Well, wasn't Bill also a Secret-Keeper for Muriel's place?" asked Hermione. "When he died, all the people that he told—"

"He didn't tell anyone other than us, as far as I know," said Ron glumly.

"If Aunt Muriel's home was hit… then doesn't that mean we're next?" said Ginny.

"Yeah, it makes sense," Harry agreed. "Bill and Mr. Weasley were the Secret-Keepers for both places, weren't they?"

"We should move, then," said Terry.

"But where can we go?" asked Michael. "It seems like nowhere is safe."

Lupin spoke up. "I'm a Secret-Keeper for Amos Diggory's new home—he and his wife moved last month, and we placed the Fidelius Charm on the place as soon as they were settled in."

"Diggory—we saw in the Daily Prophet that he'd died three months ago," said Terry.

"He faked his death. I don't think the Death Eaters have caught on, so staying with him should be safe. I am the only Secret-Keeper for their home, so they shouldn't be able to find us."

"Let's go, then," said Harry. "We should leave as soon as possible."

Lupin was looking around the group, frowning. Hermione knew who he was looking for.

"Neville was… he was killed by the Death Eaters," she said.

"Oh."

They were all silent for a moment.

"It'll take a few trips, but I'll take all of you there by Side-Along Apparition. I think it'll be fastest that way—I didn't have time to set a Portkey when I came here."

"Lupin, if you thought that Shell Cottage might be attacked soon, why did you bring Mr. Ollivander here?" Luna asked. She was still sitting beside the old man on the couch.

"I wanted to make sure that everyone was all right, and I didn't have time. Ollivander was at Muriel's place. Mundungus brought him there, thinking that it would be safe, but he saw the fight and panicked. He left Ollivander there temporarily and went straight to Grimmauld Place to find me. I had to take him away from the struggle immediately, so I brought him here."

"Wait—is the fight still going on?" asked George. "Is Aunt Muriel—"

"I don't want to lie to you—their chance of survival wasn't high," said Lupin quietly. "When I left, Flitwick and Proudfoot had just arrived to finish off the Death Eaters. They'll be off to Proudfoot's hiding place when they're done."

"Let's talk when we're safe," said Harry. "Lupin, how many people can you take at once?"

"Five," said Lupin. "You'll all have to keep firm grips on my arms though."

"All right, then. Take Ollivander, Luna, Ginny, Hermione and Ron first," said Harry.

Lupin nodded. "Let's go, then. I won't dissolve the wards around here yet—I don't want to risk an attack before I return. Luna, help Ollivander."

He opened the front door and exited the cottage. Ron and Ginny followed, and Luna helped Ollivander outside. Hermione looked at Harry, George, Michael and Terry in turn.

"Be careful," she said.

"We will," said George. "Go on."

Hermione exited the house and moved to help Luna support Ollivander's weight. They moved to the boundary, and when everyone was ready, Lupin Disapparated, taking all of them with him.


	19. XVIII Relocated

**Author's Note:** This author's note really doesn't matter to the story at all. I just wanted to tell you that I put a quote from the movie, _The Princess Bride_, in this chapter. It popped into my head as I was writing a conversation, and I just _had_ to slip it in there. I love that movie, and I've seen enough so that I could probably recite the whole thing to you, not exaggerating (sadly, I haven't had a chance to read the book yet). Anyway, I don't know how popular the quote is, but I'm curious to see how many of you out there are as crazy as I am, so see if you can find it! :)

**XVIII. Relocated**

They appeared on the driveway of a modest, two-story house, and Hermione blinked in surprise—this was a suburban Muggle neighborhood. That much was apparent from the cars parked in the neighboring driveways.

Lupin led them to the front door and rapped on it.

"It's me, Lupin," he said.

The door opened, and Amos Diggory appeared in the doorway. "Come in, come in."

"I have to go back for the rest—I'll be bringing along four more," said Lupin.

Mr. Diggory nodded as Hermione helped Ollivander past him and into the house. She heard Lupin Disapparate with a small pop, and then the front door was pulled shut.

Hermione looked around at the large room they stood in and realized that the house had to have had an Undetectable Extension Charm placed on it—the living room that they stood in was much too big to have fit inside the two-story house that she had seen from the outside.

"Come, come, let's get all of you kids settled in," said Mr. Diggory, leaving the room.

The others exchanged glances and followed him into the hallway and up a flight of stairs. The second floor looked like a hall out of a hotel room, with dozens of rooms on either side.

"Were you prepared for this?" asked Ginny as she pulled open a door so that Luna and Hermione could help Ollivander inside.

"Why, of course," said Mr. Diggory. "When Lupin helped us choose this house, he mentioned that he was worried about the safety of other members of the Order, so I volunteered our home as a new safehouse."

"And a right awful choice that was," said a woman whose footsteps they heard coming up the stairs.

"That's my wife, Gloria," said Mr. Diggory. "Don't mind her. She's still warming up to the idea."

Mr. Diggory waved his wands, and four more doors opened in the hallway. "Take your pick," he said with a warm smile. Then there was a knock on the door. "That'll be Lupin. Excuse me."

Hermione watched as Mr. Diggory headed back downstairs past his wife, who reached the top of the steps and looked at them unhappily.

"Come on, Hermione," said Ginny, pulling her toward the nearest bedroom.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Diggory," said Hermione.

"Don't apologize," said Ron. "Why are you apologizing?"

The woman huffed once before turning to go the other direction, and Hermione shot a glare at Ron.

"Ron, I think you probably just made things worse for us," said Ginny. "But she really is _so_ rude."

"Well, we can't blame her," said Luna. "After all, letting strangers into the house is a sure way of letting Nargles in too."

Hermione smiled. "I'm sure it is, Luna."

"I thought you said Nargles lived in mistletoe. Why would any guests have mistletoe on them in the middle of June?" said Ron, rolling his eyes.

"No, no, they just _prefer_ mistletoe. Really, any household plant can be infested with Nargles," said Luna matter-of-factly.

"Ron, let it go," said Ginny.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll go get a room." He walked down the hall and into the next bedroom.

"It'll be weird having our own rooms again, after sharing for so long," said Luna.

"I think it'll be nice," said Ginny. "Hermione, you can have this room. I'll go pick another one."

"All right. Thanks, Ginny," said Hermione as her friend left the room.

Luna smiled at her and walked out as well. Hermione heard footsteps on the staircase, and voices drifted up. She closed and locked the door to her new room. She needed some privacy to talk to Blaise.

_I can't talk right now_, she heard Blaise's voice in her head as though he could tell her intention.

_Where are you?_

_I can't tell you._

_Where are you?_

_I promise I'll be at the World Cup. If Harry asks, tell him that I will be there._

_Blaise, I don't _care_ about the World Cup. You're going to explain to me what happened _right now_. I'm not giving you a choice._

_But you said that it'd be the next time I saw you…_

_You know what, you're right. Be at my flat tonight by midnight. You are to wait until I get there, and when I get there, you're going to explain _everything_. Are we clear?_

There was no response, and Hermione felt like screaming in frustration.

_Blaise, answer me!_

_Yes, we're clear._

_Good. If I don't see you there, I am going straight to Voldemort and telling him that you were planning to betray him to Harry. I don't care what happens after that._

_I got the point, Hermione. I'll be there._

Hermione glared at the floor.

She hadn't been so angry with someone in a long time. She hated being left in the dark. What had Blaise done to make Ollivander so frightened of him? It couldn't have only been a kidnapping. Still, it seemed that she was being unreasonably angry toward Blaise. After all, he'd explained to her that he couldn't tell her everything because of a spell that Voldemort had placed on him.

And what obligations did he have toward her, anyway? She wasn't supposed to be his owner—she hadn't even wanted that control over him. She realized that she had simply expected him to report to her, as though he had absolutely no say in the matter, and it bothered her that that had been her attitude toward him.

But still she couldn't stop the raging storm inside her. And she _did_ still want to know what was going on with him.

A knock on the door pulled her out of her thoughts.

"Who is it?" she asked.

"Harry."

She pointed her wand at the door, and the lock clicked. "Come in," she said.

Harry pushed the door open with a rueful smile. "Are you all right, Hermione?"

"Yes," said Hermione, subdued. "I'm fine."

"That clearly means you're not fine," said Harry.

"Did you need anything?" she asked, to change the subject. Harry's attempt to comfort her was making her feel extremely guilty for all the hatred she'd felt for him in the time since Draco's death.

"Zabini told me that he might have to leave," he said.

Hermione's head snapped up. "What?"

"He already knew that there was a possibility that he'd have to leave," said Harry. "He said that if Ollivander, Professor Sprout, or Professor Vector came, then he'd have to go."

"But… did you ask him why?"

"He told me not to."

"Why do you trust him?" asked Hermione a moment later.

"Because I need him there at the World Cup."

"But why would you trust him to back you at the World Cup and not Voldemort?"

"Revenge," said Harry. "He showed me the Pensieve. Lucius Malfoy is… he's sick."

"He showed me the beginning of it, too. I didn't know he would show you," said Hermione.

"It's a good thing he only showed you the beginning. I stayed till the end. Let me tell you, I don't think there's any possible way that he would choose to kill me over Voldemort."

So that was how Blaise had convinced Harry to go with it. He'd shown him the whole torture memory. Just the part where he carved out a rib had been too much for Hermione. If it had gotten much worse, and Hermione was sure that it had, she probably would be completely convinced too.

Her reassurance that he would stay on her side stemmed from the fact that he was still under her control. But it worried her now that he sometimes was mildly disobedient. She'd have to make sure her intent was completely clear before letting him go to the World Cup.

"Hermione?" said Harry.

"Hmm—what?"

"You looked really distracted. Has anything happened between you and Zabini?"

"What are you inferring?"

"You two have gotten really close in all this time. I was just… I mean, before Zabini left, we hardly ever saw you two in separate rooms. I just wanted to know…"

Hermione shook her head. "There's nothing between me and Zabini."

"He doesn't talk much around the others," said Harry. "Even when he talked to me, he didn't say much. Is he always that quiet?"

"Why are you asking all this?"

"I just want to get a better idea of who he is. After being in school with him for six whole years, I feel weird admitting that I really don't know anything about him other than the fact that he was always around Malfoy."

"No," said Hermione to answer his question. "He talks a little more when it's just me. I think it's because I was the one who got him out of the Malfoy Manor."

"That makes sense," said Harry, nodding.

"Really, Harry. Did you have something you wanted to tell me when you came in here?" asked Hermione.

Harry shook his head, but he looked hesitant. "Nah. Mr. Diggory did say that Mrs. Diggory will make us some brunch. It'll be ready in a few minutes. Should I call you?"

"Sure."

Harry turned and started for the door.

"Harry…"

He turned around to face her.

"Thank you," said Hermione.

He smiled. "Don't mention it."

Harry left the room, and she sighed.

She and Harry had always gotten along well. After Draco's murder, Hermione had tried to act as normal as possible. Luckily, Harry had gone to work at the Ministry, and she had gotten busier and busier with catching Savage, so there was constantly an excuse for her to distance herself from him.

This felt like the first normal conversation she'd had with him for months, and she felt the animosity fading from her.

How would she ever have the strength to get through what was left to be done?

_Hermione raced down the hall and ducked behind a suit of armor, and a jet of green light glanced off the breastplate. She held back a scream and shot a Stunning Spell at the Death Eater down the hall. He collapsed, and she let out a sigh of relief. But she couldn't relax for long—the battle was still going on downstairs and out on the grounds. She crept to the window at the end of the hall to take a look outside._

_Hagrid's hut was ablaze, as were many trees in the Forbidden Forest. She watched as a group of centaurs stampeded out from the cover of the trees to join the battle. It was about time she fought her way out of the castle and onto the grounds._

_Just as she was about to turn away from the window, she noticed the reflection of a Death Eater sneaking up on her. She whirled around rapidly and shouted two spells in rapid succession._

"_Protego!"_

_The hex coming at her was absorbed by the Shield Charm._

"_Expelliarmus!"_

_But in a moment, her wand had flown out of her own hand. Disarmed by her own rebounding Disarming Charm, fantastic. She scrambled behind another suit of armor, realizing that this was a dead end. Her wand lay two yards away, out of her reach._

_She contemplated making a dive for it, but her opportunity passed before she had had a chance to make up her mind—the Death Eater Summoned her wand, and it zoomed into his hand._

"_Come on out, Granger," she heard him snarl._

_So he knew who she was. Then again, in the year that she had spent hunting Horcruxes, Draco informed her that her face, as well as Ron's, had become as well-known to the Death Eaters as Harry's._

_Maybe she could just leap out the window. She didn't want to be murdered._

_But even as she considered that option, she knew that she couldn't take her own life. Even if she survived the fall, it was highly unlikely that she wouldn't be killed by a Death Eater down below. She'd rather die fighting than trying to escape._

_She pulled out her beaded handbag and stuck her hand inside, rummaging for anything that might help her. But what could she do without her wand?_

_Then her hand closed around a small packet, and her heart leapt. Was it possible? Had she really packed something from the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes? She pulled out the packet and saw the dark purple writing across the top: Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder._

_Seemed like fate was looking after her. She ripped the pouch open, flung the powder out into the hallway, and was immediately engulfed in darkness._

"_What the hell?" she heard._

_Then there was a crash, and the Death Eater cursed. She assumed he had run into a wall. She slowly inched along the hall, praying that she wouldn't run into him._

_She thought she saw light up ahead and moved faster. Maybe she would make it out of this mess, after all._

"_Incarcerous!"_

_Hermione screamed and started bolting, but thick ropes wrapped around her entire body, and she fell to the ground, struggling against the ropes helplessly. A pair of hands roughly grabbed her arm and tugged her to her feet. Then she was yanked down the hall. They crashed into the wall twice before he found a door._

_She was shoved roughly into a classroom, and she found she could see again—the powder only took effect in the hallway outside._

"_You're going to pay for blinding me, you little Mudblood," the Death Eater growled, removing his mask._

_She recognized his face from a book she'd read on criminal history. This was Augustus Rookwood, one of the original Death Eaters who had participated during the First Wizarding War._

"_I didn't blind you," Hermione protested as she watched him slam the door._

"_Then you're going to pay for being such a pain in the arse to find," he snarled, turning back to face her._

_She watched as he unbuttoned his pants and lowered the zipper, and her breath caught in her throat. Was he really about to _rape_ her? She started to scream, but he pointed his wand at her, and her voice left her. He shoved her stomach against a desk, pushed her down so that she was bent over it. Then he removed a section of the rope around her rear and legs but kept her arms restrained. Realizing that her legs were free, she tried to move them, only to find that she had lost control over her limbs._

_Hermione had never been a religious person—she'd been too rational to think that a higher power really existed and had control over the entire universe. But now, as her pants and underwear were tugged down to her ankles, she began to pray to anyone or anything out there to help her. She could stand pain, could endure torture, but not _this_. She heard him stepping toward her, and she started hyperventilating._

_No, no, take deep breaths. She could take it. Deep breaths. If she lived through this, she could still get him back for it. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale._

_He spread her legs wide apart to either side and whistled._

"_For a Mudblood, you have one pretty pussy."_

_She shuddered in utter revulsion as she felt his rough fingers rubbing her bottom. He slapped her arse hard. She would have cried out in pain, but he'd already silenced her. His fingers roamed closer to her warmth, and she tried in vain to lift herself off the table._

_He reached one hand up to slam her back down against the table, knocking the wind out of her. Her eyes itched, threatening to fill with tears. When his hand left her back, she found that she couldn't move a muscle in her upper body. His hands pried her legs even farther apart, and then she could feel his breath on her nether lips._

"_I'm gonna make you beg to be fucked," he said. "I'm going to make you like it."_

_No. Silenced or not, she would _never_, no matter _what_ he did to her._

_At that moment, the door was thrown open with a force hard enough for it to swing around and slam into the wall beside it. Rookwood released her, probably to turn around and attack the intruder. There was a loud thud, followed by a sickening crunch._

_The ropes around her upper body disappeared, and she regained use of her limbs._

_Trembling, she pushed her torso up off the table and stood on shaking legs, reaching down to pull her underwear and pants back up. She turned around apprehensively and almost screamed when she saw another Death Eater mask. But then she saw a familiar shade of grey, and she knew she was safe._

_His eyes, ablaze with fury, were focused on Rookwood's limp body—she followed his line of sight and saw that he had crushed the man's skull. His hand was clenched tightly around his wand, and he was trembling almost as severely as she was._

"_Draco," she breathed._

_He looked up at her, and his eyes softened considerably. He crossed the distance between them in two steps and pulled her into his arms. Leaning into his chest, wrapping her arms around him, Hermione finally allowed herself to relax. Tears leaked from her eyes and streamed down her cheeks, and she let all worries about the battle fade away._

"_It's okay now," Draco murmured into her hair. "He won't be able to touch you anymore."_

_She clung to his shoulders, feeling as though she couldn't even support her own weight anymore. She wished that they wouldn't have to go down to the field and fight._

"_Are all the Horcruxes gone yet?" Draco asked quietly._

_Hermione shook her head. "I don't know. There might be one more—Voldemort's snake has to die."_

"_Nagini?"_

"_Yes."_

_Draco gently pried her away from him. "I'll keep that in mind when I get outside. Now look—the weasel's going crazy looking for you. You have to get out there."_

"_I… I know I do."_

"_Look at me. Look at me, Hermione."_

_She lifted her head up to meet his eyes and saw that they were glistening with unshed tears._

"_Forget about Rookwood. He won't ever come near you again," he said firmly. "Both of us have to get back out there. If anyone comes across us here, together, I'm going to have to attack you."_

_He put her wand in her hand._

"_Draco, I—"_

"_I'm being serious. Go, now."_

_He stepped to the side and gave her a light push toward the door. She turned back to get another look at him, but she could only see his grey eyes behind the mask._

"_I love you," she whispered before rushing into the darkness outside._

A knock on the door pulled her out of her reverie.

Hermione wished that she had taken that last moment to reach up, pull the mask off his face, and kiss him one more time. She'd give anything to relive it. If only she could turn back time and tell him not to go into the Forbidden Forest, just to stay inside the castle.

There was another knock on the door.

"Hermione?" she heard Ginny's voice on the other side. "Brunch is ready. We're all going downstairs."

She crossed the room and opened her door. "Sounds good."

They went down the steps together. At the bottom, Ginny turned to the right and led Hermione to a larger-than-average dining room. They really had done a spectacular job with the Undetectable Extension Charm on this house. A long, square dining table stretched along the length of the room, with high-backed chairs placed on either side. A delicate crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, brightly illuminating the room.

Hermione looked around the table and noted that almost everyone had taken seats. Mr. and Mrs. Diggory sat beside each other on one side of the table, next to Michael and Terry. Harry and Lupin were on either end. On the other side of the table sat Ron and George. Ginny took the seat beside George, and Hermione sat between Ginny and Lupin.

"Where are Luna and Ollivander?" asked Ginny.

"Luna offered to eat with Ollivander to keep him company," said Lupin. "That man shouldn't be walking anymore—not anytime soon, at least. He needs to rest."

Hermione glanced at Harry, wondering if he was going to talk about the World Cup. What would he tell the Order, if he was going to say anything at all? She couldn't help but wonder if he and Blaise had discussed this already.

"We have some things to discuss after brunch, but for now, let's eat," said Lupin with a smile.

He nodded to Mr. Diggory, who waved his wand. Numerous plates appeared on the table, and Hermione was reminded of all those meals in the Great Hall at Hogwarts. She gave Mr. and Mrs. Diggory a grateful smile before tucking in.

About forty minutes later, the dishes were cleared with another swish of Mr. Diggory's wand, and all eyes fell on Lupin. He indicated with his hand that Harry was going to speak, and all heads turned in the other direction.

Harry cleared his throat. "Voldemort's finally decided that he wants to end this," he said.

"End it?" George repeated.

"How?" Michael and Terry asked simultaneously.

Hermione noted that Lupin looked unsurprised by the information. Harry must have told him and gotten his approval before telling the others. Ron didn't really react either, but Hermione wasn't surprised that he'd talked to Ron about it. They'd stayed extremely close in the period of time during which Hermione tried to distance herself from them.

"He gave the go-ahead for the Quidditch World Cup to be held this year because he wants to fight me there."

"But… you're not going to go, are you, Harry?" asked Ginny.

Hermione could only see the back of her friend's head, but she knew that Ginny's eyes were wide with apprehension. All other faces were turned towards Harry, probably looking at him with expressions similar to the one on Ginny's face.

"I'm going," he said. Then he quickly added, "Before you all start shouting at me, let me finish. I'll have some help on the inside, and I'm confident that Voldemort won't let his Death Eaters help him out. He's too arrogant for that. He wants to kill me himself."

"But he's perfectly capable of that. Don't you know that?" said Terry, gaping at him.

"Your vote of confidence is overwhelming," Harry said dryly.

"He's just stating the facts," said Michael.

"I've held my ground against him before," said Harry. "I can do it again. And I've gotten a lot stronger since then. All those skirmishes had to have counted for something."

"What do you say, Lupin?" asked George.

Lupin gave Harry a small smile. "I trust Harry. I've stressed, time and time again, how important he is to the Light side. He knows that his death would be the biggest blow Voldemort could deal us—finally killing the Boy Who Lived. But if he's made up his mind, I will put my faith in him."

"Madness," Terry breathed.

"What about you, Hermione?" asked Ginny, turning to look at Hermione with desperate eyes.

"I'm sorry," Hermione replied. "I'm with Lupin on this one. It's up to Harry, in the end."

Ginny looked down at the table, her hands fidgeting in her lap. Hermione reached a hand over to rest over both of Ginny's, hoping that she would toughen up. It wasn't likely that Harry would back out just for Ginny, but people were unpredictable by nature.

"Ginny, I'm really sorry," said Harry.

When Ginny looked up again, her eyes had hardened considerably. "Well, if you're going, I'll go too," she said.

Before Harry could open his mouth to protest, George spoke, "That's what I was thinking. We should _all_ go."

"Now, hold on a minute," said Harry.

"Harry, if you can choose whether or not you're going, then all of us should be able to choose too," Terry pointed out.

"I'd rather not see you go, but if you're going, I won't stay behind," said Ron. "You're my best mate, and you're not facing death without me."

"This fight between me and Voldemort… none of you can help. Don't you see that? It's between me and him. If any of you so much as show yourselves, the Death Eaters will swoop in on you. I'm safe from them because Voldemort wants me to himself," Harry argued.

"Then we'll hide in the crowd, in disguise. At least let us support you from a distance," said George.

"Yeah. Without you, the fight will be right near pointless, anyway," said Michael. "Might as well throw in our lot with you."

"No. If I die, I don't want you to do anything stupid," said Harry firmly. "I want you to keep fighting until the very end."

"Yes—if you give your lives unnecessarily, then Harry will have died in vain," said Lupin.

"You say it like he'll die for sure," said Ginny, the fire of hope flashing in her light brown eyes.

"We just want to be prepared for the worst," said Harry. "And all of you ought to really think about it before saying you'll go. I'm sure that Voldemort will have Death Eaters hidden all throughout the crowd, looking for you."

"What's to think about?" said Ron. "I'm going, Death Eaters or not."

"I think we're all in, so don't try to talk us out of it," said George.

"Fine. But it's more important to live than to die without taking Voldemort with us. So if it comes down to choosing between fighting to the death or escaping and surviving, I want you all to take the second option," said Harry.

"Yes," Lupin agreed. "I told Hermione something similar before she went to work with the Death Eaters. I know all of us wouldn't hesitate to die for another, but always make your own life a priority. As long as you live, there will still be hope to fight and win."

"All right, so who's coming?" asked Harry. "Ron, George, Ginny… Terry and Michael, are you coming?"

The two men exchanged glances.

"Count us in," said Michael.

"Mr. and Mrs. Diggory, you've already contributed more than enough, opening up your home to us. I'd like it if you didn't endanger yourselves for this," said Harry.

Mr. Diggory smiled. "I wouldn't mind."

His wife elbowed him in the ribs and said, "Thank you, Harry. We can stay behind and take care of Ollivander."

"Which reminds me, we probably should have called Luna down for the meeting," said Lupin.

"It's all right, I'll talk to her later," said Ginny.

"She'll want to come," said Hermione.

"Are _you_ coming, Hermione?" asked Ginny.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, unless Voldemort gives orders for me to be elsewhere. If, God forbid, Harry doesn't make it, I don't plan on blowing my cover."

"Prudent, as always," said Terry with a small smile.

"Well, if we're all going, we'll have to find a way to get tickets to get in, won't we?" asked Michael.

"Or we could simply use Disillusionment Charms to sneak in," Hermione suggested.

"Won't they have ways to prevent that?" said George.

"Yeah, I remember there was loads of security when we went to the last World Cup," said Ron.

"I'm sure Voldemort wouldn't mind a few people sneaking onto the grounds," said Lupin. "If anything, I think it'll be easier to sneak in."

"Why?" asked Ginny, voicing everyone's question.

"His goal in allowing the Quidditch World Cup to take place is solely so that his last battle with Harry will have an audience. It only makes sense, then, that he won't mind having more people sneak in to watch the action."

"When will the duel be?" asked George. "Did he say so when he challenged you?"

"Come to think of it, _how_ did he get the message to you?" asked Terry.

"It must have been Zabini," said Ron. "You all remember how he and Harry spent a long time alone when we were still at Shell Cottage, don't you? And now he's run away because Ollivander pointed him out. He must have been working for Voldemort all along."

"I already apologized for bringing him to us. I won't do it again," said Hermione.

"That's not what I—" began Ron.

"Let's forget about Zabini. He's not important in the greater scheme of things," said Harry. "The duel will be before the Snitch is released."

"I get the feeling that this Quidditch match is doomed, no matter what the outcome is," said George. "If Voldemort wins, who will still have the energy for a match? And if Harry wins, who's gonna _care_ about the World Cup? The war will finally be over."

"The thing is, many people don't even feel the effects of the war," said Lupin. "The lot of you haven't been in many places other than Grimmauld Place and the Ministry of Magic recently. Walking around any normal neighborhood, you wouldn't think a war is going on. Muggles report on strange disappearances or deaths, but they don't think anything out of the ordinary is happening."

"Why hasn't Voldemort started massacres, then?" asked Terry. "Doesn't he operate by scaring people into submission?"

"That's true," said Hermione, "but he's gotten smarter since the last time he was in power. He'd much rather sit behind the scenes and direct the Ministry of Magic. Even now, there are still some people out there who think that he's not back. Don't you see? Most of the wizarding population doesn't want to believe that he's really come back. They'd much rather believe the Daily Prophet's reports that the Death Eaters are simply wreaking havoc because they're looking for Harry Potter for revenge."

"Precisely. If Voldemort doesn't reveal himself, then people won't join the battle against him," said Lupin.

"But he showed himself at Hogwarts," said Michael. "Surely—"

"There weren't very many survivors," said Ginny glumly. "At least, not besides members of the Order."

"And we're all Harry's friends," said George. "They know that. If we spoke out, people would just think that Harry was making us just as crazy as he is."

"We're not the only ones left fighting, are we, Lupin?" asked Ron. "Do you know where our dad is?"

"Your father should be safe. I didn't see him at your Aunt Muriel's."

"Do we have more safe houses?" asked Terry.

"Of course we do," said Lupin. "You can't honestly have thought no one else in the world believes Harry."

Ginny smiled hopefully. "If we get all of those people to go to the World Cup to help as well, someone's _bound_ to kill Voldemort if Harry doesn't, right?"

Lupin shook his head. "It's enough that all of you want to go. I don't want to risk everything that we've worked on in all this time. It's been hard enough to gather followers as it is."

"That makes sense," said Harry. "If I had my way, none of you would be coming."

"Then why'd you bother telling us?" asked Ginny.

Harry was looking only at her when he responded, "Because that if I die, you all have a right to know how and why I died."

She shook her head. "You won't die," she said quietly, as though her will would be enough to keep him alive.

"I'll try my best not to," Harry replied.

A surge of jealousy gripped Hermione as she watched their exchange. They were able to trade words of encouragement and support. They could reassure each other that everything would be all right, no matter how unlikely it was. She would never have that ability anymore. Draco was beyond her reach.

The thought seemed to suffocate her.

Her mind flashed back to that last moment in the classroom, when he was merely a few feet away. Why hadn't she grabbed him, held onto him just a second longer?

"Hermione, are you all right?" asked Michael.

She blinked, and a tear slipped from her eye. She quickly wiped it away and nodded.

"I'm fine," she said with a small smile. "It's just… this has been a really long battle, and I can't believe it's almost over."

"Let's hope it'll be over soon," said Harry.

"Until then, I want all of you to relax," said Lupin.

"I don't think so," said Ron. "I won't just relax. Let's practice."

"Practice dueling?" said Terry.

"That's a good idea," said Ginny, getting to her feet. "We should prepare."

"Yes—I feel rusty," said Michael. "Those Death Eaters shouldn't have been able to sneak up on me like that in the kitchen back at Grimmauld Place."

"The backyard is also under the Fidelius Charm. You can use that to practice if the entrance hall doesn't give you enough room," said Mr. Diggory, smiling.

"Just be careful, then," said Lupin as most of the people at the table stood.

Hermione got up as well.

"We will," said George.

They all started filing out of the room. Hermione paused by Harry and placed a hand on his shoulder in support. She wouldn't worry about getting revenge on him, not until Voldemort was gone. Until then, she decided she could wish him the best. He'd have to survive the duel with Voldemort in order for her to kill him later…

George paused at the doorway and turned. "Harry, Hermione, are you coming?"

"I'm coming," said Hermione.

Harry stood up. "Yeah, I'll come too."

They all moved through the house and into the backyard. Michael and Terry were already sparring when Harry and Hermione exited the house. George and Ron paired up, moving a short distance away from Michael and Terry. Ginny looked between Harry and Hermione.

"You two go ahead," said Hermione. "I have a headache. I'll sit out for a round."

"Okay, then," said Harry.

He took Ginny's hand and led her to the far end of the backyard. Hermione sat on the ground and leaned back against the wall of the house.

Once again, the very last moment played back in her head. She had to stop thinking about it before it drove her nuts…

* * *

A few hours later, the seven of them reentered the house, tired and hungry. During their numerous rounds of good sparring, Hermione had finally been able to clear her mind, if only for a few hours.

As they trudged into the large living room to sit, Mr. Diggory entered from the next room.

"Done practicing?" he said. Before any of them had had time to respond, he went on, "Remus left almost right after you went into the yard, but he said that he'd be back soon."

"Thanks, Mr. Diggory," said Harry.

Then there was a knock on the door, and Mr. Diggory said, "That might be him. I'll get it."

He left the room.

"Look," said Ginny. "Cedric."

Hermione looked up at the mantel, at which Ginny was pointing, and saw several framed pictures of Cedric Diggory. She glanced at Harry to see that he looked wracked with guilt. It bothered her that even if he found out that he'd killed Draco, he would never feel that type of guilt.

"He was pretty good at Quidditch," said George. "A good sport, too."

Before anyone else could comment, Arthur Weasley burst into the room.

"Dad!" exclaimed Ron.

"Ginny—is she here?" asked Mr. Weasley.

As he asked the question, his eyes locked on his youngest and only daughter, and he hurried across the room to pull her into a tight embrace.

"Well now, that makes me feel left out," said George, grinning.

"Dad, what's wrong?" Ginny asked in a muffled voice.

Mr. Weasley finally released her and looked around the room. Lupin and Mr. Diggory had entered the room, standing just inside the doorway.

"Dad… you didn't give up Grimmauld Place, did you?" asked Ron.

He looked down. "They told me that they had Ginny," said Mr. Weasley quietly.

Terry got to his feet angrily. "How could you believe them?" he demanded.

"Terry, calm down," said Lupin.

"Neville _died_ because of you!" Terry continued.

Mr. Weasley looked as though the words had struck him. Michael pulled Terry back down onto the couch, earning himself a glare, but Terry stopped speaking.

"Why _did_ you believe them?" asked Harry.

"Did they use Polyjuice Potion?" asked Ron.

Mr. Weasley shook his head. "They had a lock of her hair," he said. "I didn't want to believe that it was hers, but I just couldn't take that risk."

"So you put _all_ of our lives at risk?" Terry spat.

"I'm sorry," said Mr. Weasley. "I understand that many lives outweigh one, but I'm a father. I can't—"

"Dad, even if they really _did_ have me, I wouldn't have wanted you to give up Grimmauld Place," said Ginny, biting her lip.

"Yes, I know," said Mr. Weasley.

"Then Aunt Muriel—" began George.

Mr. Weasley nodded miserably, and it was silent for a while. Terry opened his mouth to speak again, but Michael elbowed him to hush him up.

"I've already lost too many people. I just… I can't…"

"Mr. Weasley, we understand," said Hermione gently. "Could you tell us how the Death Eaters got to you?"

"Oh, right, I have a message for all of you, from Hagrid. He and Madame Maxime are on the run. There are a few giants trying to find them and wreaking havoc in civilized areas," said Mr. Weasley. "The Death Eaters caught up with me only a few minutes after I saw Hagrid off."

Lupin looked worried about the news concerning giants and gestured for Mr. Weasley to follow him into the next room. Mr. Diggory went with them.

"Lupin, why can't we hear about this?" asked George, getting to his feet.

Lupin stepped back into the doorway. "It's not something you should be concerned with. Do _not_ attempt to eavesdrop on us."

He disappeared into the next room.

"Hermione… didn't you say that you and Zabini were going to look for Hagrid?" asked Ron suspiciously.

Hermione sighed, unwilling to get into another argument.

She'd actually been surprised when no one had thought to ask her about Hagrid when she returned with Blaise. Sure, they had returned just in time to fight Death Eaters at Grimmauld Place, but she was sure that they would have asked about Hagrid as soon as they were safe. Then again, everyone had been too preoccupied worrying about whether or not the Death Eaters could find them at Shell Cottage.

Before she could say anything, Harry spoke.

"Zabini explained that to me when he told me about Voldemort's challenge. He and Hermione—"

"So you _knew_ that Zabini was working for Voldemort?" said Ginny.

"No, I didn't know. I—"

"Harry, it's all right. Let me explain," said Hermione. "I told you that story about going to look for Hagrid because Voldemort wanted me to stay at the Manor for some time, without the Order knowing anything about it. I had to make up a story to get out of Grimmauld Place."

"Why couldn't you just tell us the truth?" asked Ron.

"Because given the choice between making my own job simpler or more complicated, I'll always choose to make it simpler. Occlumency is difficult, especially when you're trying to hide thoughts from the likes of Voldemort or Bellatrix Lestrange. If you don't believe me, _you_ can try it sometime," Hermione snapped.

She'd found that being angry or impatient usually made people more reluctant to question her motives.

"Then why are you telling us the truth now? That is, _if_ you're telling us the truth now," said Terry.

"Because Voldemort said he wouldn't see me until the World Cup," said Hermione. "By then, I think it'll be irrelevant whether or not I told the truth to you lot."

"So… you went to stay at the Malfoy Manor," said George. "Where did Zabini go?"

"He told me that he rented a flat in a Muggle city," said Hermione. "I didn't know that he was working for Voldemort, though. I wasn't allowed to leave the Manor, so I can't say where he was."

"Probably went straight for Ollivander," Ron muttered darkly.

Before anyone could reply, Mrs. Diggory entered the room and said, "Dinner is ready, if any of you are hungry."

"Thanks, Mrs. Diggory," said Harry, starting to leave the room.

"Are we done here, then?" asked Michael, getting to his feet.

Harry nodded. "Let's eat—I'm starved."

Hermione followed the others into the dining room, feeling extremely annoyed with Ron.

He'd always particularly opposed to Blaise, and it had only gotten worse after that _incident_. It was as if Ron was terrified of being exposed and wanted to discredit Blaise as much as possible so that no one would believe him when the truth came out.

She took a seat between George and Terry at the dining table, which had been extended to accommodate the addition of another guest—Mr. Weasley.

Her mind wandered back to Blaise. Despite how angry she'd been with him earlier, she found herself worrying about his safety. Where had he escaped off to?

* * *

**Author's Note:** Did you catch the quote from _The Princess Bride_? Just me having a bit of fun, heehee. As always, please review!


	20. XIX Parting Ways

**Author's Note:** A few chapters ago I mentioned publishing a separate story with the flashbacks from _Vengeance_ in chronological order, but now I think I can't because site guidelines say there can't be multiple entries of the same material. Aw, darn.

**XIX. Parting Ways**

_Draco shifted under her, and Hermione smiled._

"_I missed you," she whispered._

"_I missed you, too."_

"_It's getting harder and harder to be without you."_

"_Yeah, I know. I don't like it either."_

_She shifted so that she was on top of him completely, and he smirked._

"_Ready for another go?" he asked._

"_What do you think?"_

_She cut off his reply with a feverish kiss, and he growled into her mouth, flipping them over on the bed. She giggled and ran her hands up and down his back, re-familiarizing herself with each muscle, learning the new scars that marked his skin._

_His hands massaged her breasts, and she broke their kiss to let out a shuddering moan. He kissed his way down her neck and toward her breasts, but her fingers tangled up in his hair and tugged him back up so she could taste his lips again. Their tongues tangled together, and she felt the tip of him rubbing small circles against her clit. She shuddered and bucked her hips against him as desire washed over her._

_She pushed against his chest and rolled them over again, trapping him beneath her. His eyes sparkled in amusement, but when her hands gripped his hard length, he gasped and shut his eyes. Hermione lifted herself up onto her knees and scooted a little to align their bodies. She leaned forward slightly and teased him by gyrating her hips against the tip of his pulsing erection._

"_Oh, you little bitch," he groaned._

_She only laughed, not stopping her motion. Suddenly, he gripped her hips, holding them in place, and shoved upward roughly as he tugged her hips down. Her mouth fell open, but no sound came out. He filled her up so completely. The sensation was so perfect—she'd had him once already that night, yet she still felt like it'd been too long since she'd been this complete._

_She lifted herself off him, and he growled in displeasure. Then she impaled herself back on him, and their moans of pleasure blended together._

"_Fuck," she heard him mutter._

_His hands guided her hips, forcing her to increase the pace. Soon, she gave up control, and he flipped her onto her back, thrusting harder into her. When she reached her peak, her eyes rolled into her head and she cried his name, nails clawing a trail down his back. He pumped into her a few more times before tensing up and exploding inside her._

_He collapsed heavily on top of her, and she stroked his back, trying to catch her breath._

_A few minutes later, he slid out of her and lay to her side, stroking her hair gently. She opened her eyes and gaped in shock._

"_B-B-Blaise?"_

_Warm, brown eyes looked at her sadly. "Hermione, please don't do this. Not right now."_

_She thought she would have a heart attack._

"_Calm down."_

"_How—how can I calm down?"_

_She started to move away from him, but he moved too quickly, trapping her beneath his body. Heat flooded her body, but she was terrified of the feeling. She turned her head away, but it wasn't enough. She felt him pressing down on her, surrounding her._

_There was no escape._

"_Hermione—"_

"_No, Blaise."_

_Tears were running down her cheeks now, but she couldn't have cared less about showing her weakness in front of him. What had happened to her? Was she using him as Draco now? Was that it what it had come to? She shoved at his chest roughly, but he grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head._

"_Look at me," he said._

_She turned her face to meet his eyes and only saw silver. More tears leaked from her eyes._

"_Blaise, I never wanted this to happen," she sobbed._

"_I already told you. I don't care what I am to you. If there's anything I can do to bring you a moment of happiness, I'll do it."_

"_No… no… no…" she continued to sob._

"_Hermione, please stop crying," he said in a soft voice._

_The eyes weren't changing back._

"_Blaise, I—you—we—we can't."_

"_What's the use in resisting it? You've been gravitating closer and closer toward me ever since they put that bond between us. It's already happened. Why are you still fighting it?"_

_He was nuzzling her neck with his nose now, and she tried to free her hands from his grip._

"_Why are you fighting it?" he repeated in a whisper._

_His lips grazed her earlobe, and she gasped involuntarily, squeezing her eyes shut._

"_Don't you feel it?" he breathed hotly into her ear._

_His tongue traced the shell of her ear, and she shuddered. When he moved to kiss her, she pressed her lips together, refusing to give in to him. She couldn't treat him as Draco's substitute._

_He rocked his hips against hers, and she clenched her jaw, trying to restrain herself. But her nether lips were already dripping with arousal—she couldn't hide that. His obvious erection pressed gently at her entrance, and her hips moved of their own accord, aching to feel the penetration of his hard length._

_He shifted back just slightly, denying her that pleasure. His hands shifted so that both her wrists were restrained by just one hand. His now free hand slid down her arm slowly, blazed a trail down her curvy side until it reached her soaked opening._

"_My, my," he said in a low voice. "Someone's ready for round three."_

"_Blaise," she whispered pleadingly, "stop. Stop, I'm begging you."_

_When she opened her eyes to look at him, his face was gone, replaced entirely by Draco's. She immediately closed her eyes. She could try to resist his seduction when he was still Blaise, but if she saw Draco's face… it'd be impossible, and she knew it. Apparently, he knew it too._

"_Hermione, love," he murmured, in a voice that she recognized as Draco's, "please don't close your eyes. Look at me. Let me see those beautiful eyes."_

_She shook her head. "Blaise, stop it."_

"_I'm not Blaise," he said quietly._

"_Don't say that! Stop it, this instant!"_

"_Why would you ever call me Blaise?" he asked, as though he hadn't heard her. His lips gently touched each of her eyelids. "He knows that if he slept with my girl, I'd murder him."_

_His thumb grazed her clit, and she shuddered despite her efforts not to respond._

"_You're _mine_, Mudblood, and no one can take you from me."_

Hermione sat up with a jolt, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. She was covered in cold sweat, and the thin material between her thighs was drenched. Blaise was nowhere to be seen.

It was just a nightmare. Just a nightmare. None of that was real.

But tears streamed down her face nevertheless. She wasn't even sure if her tears were simply a continuation of her sentiment from the dream, or if they were because the dream was over. Was there was some sick part of her that _wanted_ Blaise to seduce her?

She looked around at the room and realized that it was long after dark. She remembered how she'd instructed Blaise to wait for her at her flat, and her face blanched. God… she couldn't see him _now_, not in this state.

Those last whispered words had sounded so much like something Draco had said to her before. Of course, her subconscious would have drawn from her memories of him. But those words continued to replay in her mind, over and over again, in Draco's voice, sending chills down her spine.

"_You're _mine_, Mudblood, and no one can take you from me."_

She took a few deep, shuddering breaths in an attempt to calm herself down. She did still want to see Blaise, still wanted to hear him explain everything to her. But if she couldn't keep her emotions in check, he'd probably find a way to manipulate her into letting him get away with less than the truth.

After cleaning herself up, she sat for about half an hour, meditating, before finally thinking that she was stable enough to see him again. She got to her feet and moved to her door, easing it open slowly. No one seemed to be awake. She slipped outside, locked the door with a flick of her wand, and went downstairs. Once she was out on the driveway, she Disapparated.

When she appeared in her living room, Blaise was stretched out on the couch, asleep. She half-expected him to morph right into Draco and let out a sigh of relief when her mind decided to stay clear. He stirred at the sound and sat up when he saw her.

"You're here," he said.

She nodded. "And you have some explaining to do."

He sighed and lifted both his hands in surrender. "Where do you want me to start?"

"Why was Ollivander terrified to see you?"

He dropped his eyes to the ground. "I was the one who found him for the Dark Lord."

Immediately, he clenched his jaw, and pain jolted through Hermione. Blaise hadn't been lying about Voldemort's curse. But he didn't stop talking.

"When I brought Ollivander to the Dark Lord, he ordered me—"

A new streak of pain lanced through her chest, but she knew he felt it more strongly. His fists were clenched at his sides, his entire body rigid.

"—he ordered me to torture him."

"Blaise, stop," said Hermione.

The pain lessened slightly, but her chest still throbbed. He didn't look very relieved.

"Are you all right?"

He didn't reply and refused to meet her eyes.

"You're angry," she observed. When this didn't elicit a response, she said, "Blaise, I'm sorry. I was just frustrated. After we spent all that time together, you disappeared with Voldemort for a couple weeks, and when you got back, you had that Mark burned into your arm, and you wouldn't tell me anything. I just…"

He shook his head. "I don't care. It's fine," he muttered. His voice sounded raw, hoarse.

She moved toward him. "Does it still hurt?"

The pain had faded completely away from her, but when he had been hit with Sectumsempra, she'd also only shared his pain for the initial moments before it left her. She touched his shoulder gently, and he flinched away from her.

It was a simple reaction, a tiny motion, but she felt like she'd been stabbed in the heart.

His eyes flickered to her face, and she knew from his expression that he'd felt it.

"Hermione…" he muttered. "Do you see him right now?"

She shook her head. "No, not right now."

"Then why…?"

She left his question hanging. She couldn't answer. She didn't have an answer. No, no, no. That was the only answer in her head, and it was lamentably inadequate for handling the situation.

He sighed and reached for her, and she didn't protest when she found herself wrapped in his warm embrace.

"It's all right, Hermione," he said quietly. "This will all be over soon."

She silently counted the days that they had left until the Quidditch World Cup.

"After tonight, there will be three more days, and then it'll be over," he said.

Clearly, he'd been thinking the same thing she had.

"Afterwards…" he continued, his voice strained, as if the words were difficult to say, "Afterwards, you can be rid of me forever, if you want. I won't beg for you to stay with me."

"I'll free you," she whispered into his chest. "I'll get into the Malfoy Manor and find the antidote for you. I promise."

He shook his head. "Don't."

Perplexed, she had to ask. "Why?"

"I'd rather not say."

"Why?" she pressed.

He couldn't be punished by Voldemort for telling her _this_, she decided. It wasn't as if the ancient Malfoy master-slave bond was top priority for the Dark Lord.

Blaise sighed tiredly. "Because that as long as I stay bound to you, then no matter how far away you are from me, I'll still be able to see your face, whenever I close my eyes."

Hermione didn't know how to react, but he didn't seem to need a reply.

The last time he'd mentioned that he saw her face every time he closed his eyes, he'd said it like it was an awful thing, a reminder that he belonged to her. But now he was using it as a reason _not_ to be freed? Her eyes welled up as she realized just how devoted to her he'd become. How could she ever have doubted him?

She didn't know how long she stayed in his arms, enjoying a sense of security that she hadn't felt for a long time. He seemed perfectly content, gently rubbing her back. His breathing was calm and even, and the rhythm was so soothing that she thought she'd fall asleep if she didn't do something soon.

Finally, she cleared her throat, and he pulled his arms back.

"Did you need to know anything else?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No. I don't want to put you in more pain—does it still hurt?"

"No."

"Tell me the truth."

"Yeah, it does."

"I'm so sorry. I—"

"Don't worry about it," said Blaise. "It's already faded a lot. You should go back to your hiding place. It'll be safer for you there."

"Where are you staying?"

He shook his head.

"It's all right," said Hermione gently. "I've pushed you around enough for one day. You can go back."

"What are you doing?"

"I'll stay here a little longer."

She watched as Blaise stood up and walked around the coffee table. As he raised his wand, he turned his head back to look at her, and she gave him a small smile.

"I think I'll keep you company—if you don't mind, that is," he said, putting his wand down on the coffee table.

"I could use some company."

They spent most of the next hour sitting together, neither of them willing to break the comfortable silence that settled over them. Hermione's mind stayed blissfully blank, and for some reason the problems that had been circling in her head all throughout the day didn't bother her. Was proximity to Blaise really a panacea for her?

Eventually, she decided it was time that she returned to the Diggory home. She didn't want the others to know that she'd left, and she had no clue when Mr. and Mrs. Diggory usually got up.

Seeming to sense her intention, Blaise stood and finally broke the silence, "You should probably go home. You need rest."

"I don't have anything serious coming for me. How are you holding up?" asked Hermione, also getting to her feet.

Why was she asking this? It wasn't going to solve anything for her, and she really should have headed back as soon as they finished speaking earlier. But she realized that she probably wouldn't risk meeting with Blaise again before that time, and she honestly had no idea what would happen at the World Cup. If Blaise was somehow killed, this would be the last time she saw him. She remembered how much she'd regretted that last moment with Draco, and she didn't want the same regret here.

But as that thought crossed her mind, she questioned herself. How could she ever compare this chaotic mixture of strange feelings toward Blaise to the strong, sure love that she felt toward Draco?

"What do you mean?" he asked, jerking her out of her thoughts.

"Didn't Lupin hit you with a hex when you were riding your broom away from Shell Cottage?"

Blaise smiled. "I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself. Thanks for asking, though."

"I'm sorry you lost your broom."

"It's fine. I have a spare." He shook his head and asked, "Why are you talking about these insignificant things? You must have something important to tell me, so you can skip straight to it."

"Is it really _that_ easy for you to read my intentions?"

"I have to be good at _something_," said Blaise, grinning.

"What I wanted to say was…" Hermione stopped herself.

"Just tell me. It's not anything bad, is it?"

She sighed. "I just want you to be careful."

Blaise looked at her uneasily, and she frowned.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I'm more used to depressed Hermione and pissed-off Hermione. Concerned, caring Hermione throws me off a bit."

She had to laugh at that. "Would you feel better if I started yelling at you?"

"I'm being serious," he said. "What are you hiding under those big bushy curls? Behind your pretty brown eyes?"

"I'm not trying to hide anything," said Hermione seriously.

"Do you want to talk about… about what happened earlier? Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about."

She did know exactly what he was referring to—he was talking about her reaction that they had shared when he flinched at her touch. But what was she supposed to say? _She_ didn't even know what had been going through her head. In fact, it seemed to her that _nothing_ had been going through her head. But if that had been an instinctual reaction, did it mean she really had developed serious feelings for him?

"Hermione, you're thinking very loudly again."

"I don't know what to say," she said finally.

"What were you thinking?"

Of course he would ask the same question she'd been asking herself.

"I don't know what I was thinking," she admitted. "I don't think I was thinking at all."

"But you didn't see Draco's face."

She dared a peek at his eyes. They shone with some hope, but when she tilted her head back down and closed her eyes to get a sense of his emotions, he was surprisingly neutral. Maybe he really _could_ block his emotions from her. How was that fair? Was it part of the bond they shared?

She decided to just ask him directly. What harm could it do? And if this really did end up being the last time she saw him…

"Blaise, are you able to hide emotions from me?"

He raised an eyebrow. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"I'm just curious. It's actually come up a few times, but I never got around to asking you."

"No, I can't. At least, not consciously. Why? Do you know what I feel right now?"

She shook her head. "I don't feel anything coming from you."

"Don't change the subject," he said, sighing. "This may very well be the last time we see each other, if the World Cup turns into a fiasco."

He'd been thinking the same thing as her again. How many times had that happened that night?

"Yes, I know," she said.

"Then why can't we just resolve this? I don't want to have hope, but after what happened earlier… it's just the way our hearts work. I need you to tell me whether or not it's false hope."

He tilted her face upward. She met his searching eyes hesitantly, half-expecting them to be silver—an after-effect of her dream, probably. But they stayed that rich shade of brown, and she released a breath that she hadn't even known she'd been holding. She couldn't give him hope.

"Blaise, there can never be anything between us," she said quietly.

Their eyes stayed locked for a moment more before he nodded, stepping away. "I expected that," he said. "Well, we both really _should_ be going now. It's late."

"Good luck," said Hermione.

"Thanks."

Blaise picked his wand up off the table and lifted it to Disapparate, but when he hesitated, Hermione frowned and asked him what was wrong.

"Nothing," he replied. But a moment later, a jumble of words poured out of his mouth, "Just… after the World Cup, if I don't make it, could you find a way to save the people in the dungeons at the Manor? I've um… my friend Theo—that is, Theodore Nott—he was locked up there after the battle at Hogwarts. I tried to get them to let him out, but he didn't want to go Dark side, spy or not, and—"

"It's okay, you don't have to talk so fast," said Hermione.

He paused and slowed down, "Theo didn't want anything to do with the Death Eaters, not after his dad killed his mum on the Dark Lord's orders. So he made me promise that no matter what I did trying to get him out, I wouldn't try to turn him to the Dark side. I know you wouldn't want to lose your position among the Death Eaters, but you're clever. I think you could manage it."

Hermione nodded. "If that's what it comes down to, I'll do my best. But Blaise, I really don't think that you'll have to die at the World Cup."

"I know. I just wanted to tell you just in case, so that if anything happened to me, someone would still try to rescue him. He's my best mate, after Draco."

"Yes, I know," said Hermione. "Is there anything else you need to tell me?"

Blaise thought for a moment and then said, "There was one more thing I wanted to talk to you about. It's about… revenge. I know that we went over this a long time ago, and at the time, you told me that you couldn't let it go. But it's just that… we've been working together for a long time, and I just…"

"Just what?" Hermione asked when he didn't continue.

He sighed. "I don't want you to worry yourself even more than you already are, but I really think you should reconsider getting revenge. Potter is… I mean, I don't like the guy. But like I said, you and I have been working together for a long time, and I think—"

"Are you trying to talk me out of it? That really isn't what I need right now. I was already starting to have doubts on my own. And as Draco's best friend, aren't you supposed to be trying to talk me _into_ getting revenge?"

"All I'm trying to say is, I don't want you to do anything you'll regret."

"What do you mean by that?" Hermione asked.

But she already had an idea of what he was talking about. During her private conversation with Harry earlier that day, she'd already felt like she might not be able to exact revenge on him.

She still remembered exactly how Draco had been killed. He'd lowered his wand only slightly, so his wand was still pointed at Hermione when Harry killed him. Harry might even have thought that he was _saving_ her. Merlin, her plot for revenge seemed less and less reasonable.

"I mean exactly what I said," said Blaise. "I feel like you'll come to regret it if you actually carry out your plan for revenge. Besides, killing Potter won't bring Draco back."

Hermione frowned. "Why has your perspective changed so much, Blaise?"

"It really hasn't changed that much. The top priority in my book, from the beginning, was to make sure you were taken care of."

"But you wanted me to get revenge, didn't you?"

"That's only because that's what _you_ wanted the most at that time. But it's been almost a year. You've had a lot of time to think it over—all the reasons for and against it. And honestly, I think you would regret it."

"Well, we'll see about that when the time comes," she said.

She was acting tough now, and he probably knew it, but it didn't matter to her.

"Now, is _that_ all?" she asked.

"Yes, that's all. Bye, Hermione."

"Goodbye."

She watched him Disapparate before sinking back down on the couch.

She'd told him the truth, that nothing could ever happen between them, but she felt as though a part of her had been torn away, taken hostage by him. He was the one who belonged to her, but in the end, she was the one who lost a piece of herself to him.

* * *

**Author's Note:** And the countdown begins! Only a few more chapters left in this story. It's been really fun (challenging too, but fun overall) for me to write, and I hope you've had fun reading too :)


	21. XX A New Era

**XX. A New Era**

"Are you ready, Hermione?" asked George.

He pointed at the toy cauldron sitting on the table. The others—Harry, Ron, Ginny, Luna, Michael and Terry—were already huddled around it, each touching it with a finger. The cauldron was a Portkey, and its destination was the 423rd Quidditch World Cup.

The days leading up to this moment had slipped by quickly, and Hermione couldn't believe that it was already almost time to go. Her dread of this night's events had seemed to grow exponentially with each passing hour, and now it was finally time.

Before she could respond, she felt a familiar burning sensation on her arm.

No, not _now_…

"I… I can't go," she said, shaking her head.

"Why not?" asked Ron as the others turned to look at her.

She reluctantly pulled up her sleeve and showed them the Mark, which had changed from its normal red hue to black, dark as night.

"Duty calls," she muttered.

"It's all right, Hermione. We'll keep our eyes on Harry. You make sure no one suspects you," said Terry.

"Bye," she said, heading back through the house.

As she reached the front door, she saw Lupin coming down the stairs.

"Hermione, aren't you—" he began.

"I've been summoned by Voldemort. I have to go," she said quietly.

"Be careful, then."

She nodded and exited the house, shutting the door behind her. When she reached the driveway, she Disapparated.

Upon entering the Manor a few minutes later, she found that no one appeared to be inside. She moved into the study, expecting to see the Dark Lord, but he wasn't there either. A loud crack sounded behind her, and she jumped in surprise, spinning around.

"Miss Hermione!" said Toory. "Toory is so happy to see Miss Hermione again."

"Hello Toory. Is the Dark Lord here?"

Toory shook her head, her large ears flapping back and forth. "Toory has a message for Miss Hermione. Mistress Bellatrix says that Miss Hermione should take good care of the prisoners. If any of them escape, it is Miss Hermione's responsibility."

Hermione frowned. "Wouldn't she be able to give _you_ a job like that, Toory?"

"Mistress Bellatrix said that it was important for Toory not to become involved in these things," Toory squeaked, her eyes welling up with tears. "When—when _Dobby_ was told to do important things, he meddled! The Masters and Mistresses never trusted us again."

"Toory, why do you want to serve them so much?"

"Toory is a house elf! This is what Toory is supposed to do!"

"But they—the Malfoys, they must treat you awfully," said Hermione.

"No, no! Miss Hermione must not insult Toory's Masters! Do not insult Toory's Masters."

The small house elf burst into tears, and Hermione hurriedly began apologizing.

"Toory, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please stop crying."

Toory looked up at Hermione with huge, sorrowful eyes. "Miss Hermione doesn't have to say sorry. Miss Hermione is always too polite to Toory. Toory should go back to work in the kitchens now. She has brought Miss Hermione the message from Mistress Bellatrix."

"Yes—thank you, Toory."

Toory dried her eyes on the corner of her pillowcase before snapping her fingers and disappearing.

Hermione shook her head, unable to fathom how Toory could be so loyal to the Malfoys despite such awful treatment. But this was an issue beyond her reach at the moment.

She wondered if Bellatrix could have guessed that Blaise would ask her to free Nott for him. After all, Bellatrix was Draco's aunt. She must have seen the three of them—Draco, Blaise, and Nott—spending time together. Maybe she'd put Hermione in charge because she'd _known_ that Blaise would make that request of her. Making Hermione responsible for any escapes would discourage her from releasing Nott.

Well, if that's what Bellatrix thought she was doing by putting her in charge of the prisoners, she was wrong. Hermione decided that she would free Nott while she had a chance and deal with the consequences later. After all, the order hadn't come directly from Voldemort. She could still push some of the blame off on Bellatrix.

Then she realized with a jolt that she was finally being permitted to enter the dungeons. Why was that? Had they moved whatever it was that they didn't want her to see?

She moved through the house purposefully and found that it was as empty as always. In less than half a minute, she reached the room that held the entrance to the dungeons. She went down the steps slowly, half-expecting someone to jump out and stop her.

She reached the door at the bottom and turned the knob, but the door was locked. She pointed her wand at the knob and unlocked it. Then she turned the knob and slowly pushed the door inward.

Her eyes were met with a thin hallway, dimly lit with flickering torches. She heard water droplets hitting the ground somewhere farther in. The walls, floor and ceiling were all made of stone. The stone walls were solid, periodically interrupted by bars, which Hermione supposed were doors.

She stepped into the hallway and pushed the door shut behind her. Its lock automatically clicked into place. She held still as she heard a voice coming from the cell nearest her.

"Her—Hermione? Is that really you?" it croaked.

She moved over to the bars hesitantly, recognizing the voice. "Oh my god—Lee?"

Sure enough, the dark figure that moved out of the depths of the cell and into the light was Lee Jordan, close friend of the Weasley twins. He was thinner than Hermione had ever seen him, and a long, jagged scar ran down his right cheek. She almost didn't recognize him at first, but his eyes flashed with the same fire, and when that characteristic grin lit up his face, she knew without a doubt that this was Lee.

"Oi everyone—Hermione Granger's here!" he called.

"Hermione!" cried a voice.

"Parvati!" Hermione responded, moving toward the bars of the cell from which Parvati's voice had come.

But before she reached that cell, she heard a deadbeat voice echo from down the hall.

"Don't get so fucking excited. It could be anyone pretending to be the damn Mudblood. Last time they sent Longbottom in to _save_ us, and it was a sham, wasn't it? Do you all _want_ to end up like Finnegan?"

Parvati drew back from the bars of her cell just as Hermione reached them.

"No—guys, really—it's me," said Hermione.

It wasn't hard to believe that the Death Eaters really had done something like that. Sending someone in for a "rescue" would give them all hope. Filling up their prisoners with false hope and then brutally squashing it did seem like a good way to crush spirits…

Hermione moved down the hall until she reached the cell that contained the person who had called her a Mudblood. He was sitting far back in his cell, and the dim light from the hallway only illuminated his bare feet up to his ankles.

"Who's in there?" she asked.

"Oh, come on. Don't even pretend. I'm not falling for your trap. Go ahead and open up the door. I'm not going to try to crawl out like bloody Finnegan."

His voice was too familiar for her not to recognize at this point. She hadn't realized whose voice it was at the beginning because his tone had been too different from the tone that she had become accustomed to. Now, fear gripped her, and she was afraid to say his name.

"B-B-Blaise?"

"Fucking hell. Try someone else!"

The dungeons were completely silent, and each prisoner could hear their exchange.

Hermione trembled—it really _was_ him. His voice was hoarse, but unmistakable. How could he _possibly_…

She watched as his feet disappeared into the shadow and heard the slap of his hand against the wall as he used it to support himself. He slowly moved into the light, and she saw the way his skin clung to his protruding ribs, the way his cheeks sunk into his face, saw the scars covering his bare torso, and knew that he had been imprisoned here for a long, long time.

Hermione was shaking. It was him. Then who…?

She held back a furious scream.

She'd been sharing all of her thoughts, secrets, missions, and _emotions_ with some Death Eater who had been walking around using Blaise Zabini as a disguise! She could hardly hold back the bile rising in her throat. She'd almost given in and _fallen for him!_

Her breathing was uneven, and she could barely feel her legs anymore. She gripped the bars to steady herself and noticed that Blaise took an uneasy step backwards.

"What the fuck are you doing, Granger?"

From the neighboring cell on the side closer to the exit, she heard Alicia Spinnet's voice, "Hermione, is it really you? You're so pale, you look like you've seen a ghost."

"I—I have to go. I'll come back for you, I promise!" she said to no one in particular.

Then she whipped back to face the door at the end of the hall and sprinted toward it. She didn't have time to try to wrap her head around this—the World Cup was about to begin, which meant that that duel could be taking place even now!

She had to get away from the Manor as fast as possible and warn Harry to leave the World Cup, if it wasn't too late already. As she ran out of the Manor and toward the front gates, her mind raced.

She had been so, so sure that Blaise was on _her_ side, but he had just been some Death Eater in disguise—no _wonder_ Voldemort had believed him so easily! She had _known_ that it couldn't have been that easy to convince him to accept their plan for the World Cup, _known_ that nothing good should have come after seeing such a livid expression on the Dark Lord's face.

She should have stopped Blaise—_fake_ Blaise—from ever coming even _close_ to executing this plan! Back when he first suggested it to her, she should have gone with her gut feeling and put her foot down! She'd thought it was madness in the first place, hadn't she?

Now Voldemort would win. Suddenly it didn't matter that Harry had wielded the wand that committed the crime. Voldemort was the biggest culprit in causing Draco's death by forcing him to join the Dark side for the sake of his parents. For all her supposed brilliance, why was it that she only thought of this _now?_ In all probability, it was already too late, and he was going to win.

No!

She hated herself for being so stupid, for believing everything that fake-Blaise had said. She should have noticed that he seemed too eager to get on her good side, should have noticed how he put so much care into making her think that he honestly wanted the best for her.

She Apparated onto the grounds of the area where the World Cup was to take place and, after a quick Disillusionment Charm, dashed past the guards and straight toward the stadium. She rushed between loads of tents. The sounds of animated conversation and anxious chatter hinted to Hermione that the duel hadn't taken place yet, and she pushed her legs harder.

The duel was to take place before the release of the Snitch, so she had to get there soon. Voldemort would appear soon, and Harry would get into position. It would take too long to try to find Harry in the crowd, so she made a beeline for the seating complex where the maintenance area was—she'd looked it up in the blueprints that Terry had nicked from his work at the Ministry months ago.

She pointed her wand at the door and shouted, "Bombarda!"

The lock exploded, and she entered a small hallway. She ran along the hall and saw narrower passages branching off every now and then. How long would it take to find that damned imposter?

Luck was on her side. She looked right at the third passage to see a figure standing in the distance, peering through a small opening in the wall at the end of the hall. She lifted the Disillusionment Charm and headed toward him, not bothering to try to keep quiet.

He turned when he heard her footsteps.

"Hermione—what are you doing here?"

"I know everything, and you're not going to do _anything_ tonight," she said.

"What do you mean, you know everything?" asked fake-Blaise.

His face could have been placed in the dictionary beside the definition of "confused" or "innocent". If she hadn't seen the real Blaise with her own eyes, she probably would have fallen into his trap yet again.

"We don't have time for this right now," he continued. "It's about to start."

Hermione pointed her wand at him. "Petrificus Totalus!"

He fell to the ground, and she stepped over him to take the place where he'd been standing.

She watched as Harry stepped out into the middle of the pitch. The spectators—or at least, all of the people that she could see from this angle—were all shouting and jeering for him to get out of the way. A referee headed toward him but ducked back as several jets of green light were shot at Harry.

Hermione hissed, but the green lights disappeared, absorbed by a tinted barrier that flickered into existence above Harry. Voldemort had stayed true to his word. Then the Dark wizard appeared several yards away from Harry, inside the dome, facing him, and the crowd fell into shocked silence. Harry and Voldemort were exchanging words, but they were inaudible.

She glanced down to see fake-Blaise staring up at her, wide-eyed.

_Let me go!_ His voice was still in her head.

_Shut up._

_We don't have time for this! Hermione, it's important!_

_Why are you still talking? Was all that binding magic a hoax too?_

Hermione pointed her wand at him.

_You will explain _everything_ to me when I wake you up. Stupefy!_

When she turned back to watch, she saw Harry and Voldemort standing face-to-face. They were still speaking, but Hermione couldn't hear. She wondered if it was merely because of the distance, or if it was because Voldemort's barrier was soundproof as well. If she attacked with fake-Blaise's wand, she should be able to get through the barrier.

Her gut clenched in anxiety as she reached down and pulled fake-Blaise's wand out of his hand. She straightened up and saw that they were still talking.

Then, before Harry had even raised his wand, a green jet of light hit him in the chest, and he collapsed, limp.

Hermione's jaw fell slack in shock and horror.

Voldemort waved his wand, and the dome vanished. Hermione immediately pointed both of the wands in her hand at him and hissed, "Avada Kedavra!"

Several other green jets of light came toward him from other directions, but he sidestepped most of them and deflected those that almost reached him. From the silence, Hermione knew that almost every person in the crowd was as terrified as she was, if not more.

"Welcome to the new era," Voldemort said in a hiss that was magnified so that it was perfectly audible to every person in the whole stadium.

Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth and tuned out the Dark Lord's speech, staring instead at the body of the boy who had been her best friend for so many years.

She was indirectly responsible for Harry's death—she'd finally gotten her "revenge", but now she knew that fake-Blaise had been right. Now that Harry lay limp on the ground, Hermione felt that she wouldn't have been able to make that final move and kill him. Draco's killer or not, Harry was still her best friend.

And now, she'd killed him.

She was still staring at his body when she saw something that _had_ to be impossible. Had his hand twitched? It must have been a trick of the mind.

"Now," Voldemort was saying, "the Boy Who Lived is no more. He is nothing more than a mere mortal! I, Lord Voldemort, am the only person who can truly conquer death! I am immortal!"

Then there were audible gasps in the crowd, and Voldemort whirled around as Harry slowly sat up and got to his feet, his wand still in his hand.

"Impossible," Voldemort breathed.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," said Harry in a very steady voice, "you are far from immortal."

Voldemort raised his wand against Harry yet again, but Harry didn't even lift his wand to defend himself. Hermione could only watch in awe as the green jet of light that flew from the tip of Voldemort's wand rebounded when it was within a few feet from Harry.

Everyone looked on in shocked silence as the Dark Lord crumpled to the ground, struck by his own Killing Curse.

After almost a full minute, she heard a whoop and recognized the voice as George Weasley's. All of a sudden, people started clapping. There was cheering, screaming, and crying up in the stands as the spectators realized the significance of what had just happened.

But as soon as the shock passed over her, Hermione felt numb. She'd realized that there was no energy for vengeance, no strength left for it even if she _had_ wanted it. She laughed bitterly at this. Fake-Blaise had been right all along in saying that she was too weak to avenge Draco.

She stumbled away dazedly, leaving fake-Blaise unconscious on the ground, dropping his wand somewhere down the hall. Maybe someone would find him later—even after waking from being Stunned, he would still be trapped by her Full Body-Bind Curse. Oh, Harry would find him. He knew that fake-Blaise was supposed to be there, backing him up.

She wandered out of the maintenance tunnel and saw the guards racing from the boundaries into the stands to celebrate with the others.

George had been right. The Quidditch match was forgotten as people celebrated the Dark Lord's fall.

Hermione eventually reached the boundary and Disapparated.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Don't worry, that wasn't the ending. Gosh, that'd be an awful ending. But we _are_ coming down the home stretch now.

Anyway, I was rather anxious about writing the "duel" between Harry and Voldemort, didn't really how to write it. So you guys should leave me some reviews and tell me what you thought! Constructive criticism is welcome.


	22. XXI Aftermath

**XXI. Aftermath**

Minutes later, she walked through the rooms of the Malfoy Manor, looking for Toory. She'd called out for the house elf a few times, but Toory hadn't responded.

Hermione had gone down to the dungeons and attempted to open up the cells as soon as she returned, but no unlocking and exploding spells had worked on the stubborn doors.

"Miss Hermione is looking for Toory?" she heard.

She spun around to see Toory standing in the doorway that she had just passed through.

"Oh, hello Toory. I wanted to know if you could free all the prisoners down there," said Hermione. "The Dark Lord has fallen, so they should be able to go free, now."

Toory shook her head. "No. Mistress Bellatrix forbade it."

"Please, Toory?"

"No. Toory must obey Mistress's orders unless another Master says otherwise."

Despite her fogged up brain, she came up with an idea: Toory _did_ have another master in the house that Hermione could appeal to. She turned away from the small house elf and made her way up to the second floor. When she glanced back over her shoulder, she saw that Toory was following her, eyeing her apprehensively.

"Don't worry, Toory. I won't make you do anything against Bellatrix's orders," said Hermione.

Toory didn't look convinced.

Hermione reached her destination and unlocked the door to Narcissa's room. Why was it so quiet tonight? Hermione tentatively stepped inside.

"Mrs. Malfoy?" she called out.

She was in a sort of lounge, and she was about to walk into the adjoining room when a side door opened, and a very haggard-looking Narcissa Malfoy emerged.

"Granger," she said in the same croak that Hermione had heard the first time she saw her.

"Mrs. Malfoy, I have to ask a favor from you."

Toory tugged gently on Hermione's hand. "Toory thinks Miss Hermione shouldn't do this…" she urged.

Narcissa's eyes shifted to the house elf for a moment.

"Mrs. Malfoy," Hermione said to regain the woman's attention, "can you send Toory out for just a minute? I would like to speak to you in private."

"Out, Toory," said Narcissa, waving a hand in dismissal.

Toory looked at Hermione with disapproving eyes before snapping her fingers and disappearing.

"My son… save Draco."

Her heart was breaking for this poor woman. She _still_ thought that Draco was alive? Surely there was something that could be done about the trauma that she was suffering. Couldn't Bellatrix have sent her sister to St. Mungo's? Hermione had no doubts that the Malfoys had more than enough money to do so.

She had to play along if she was going to get Narcissa to say what needed to be said to free the prisoners.

"I'll try my best, but I have to release the prisoners that are downstairs first. Otherwise, I can't do anything for you," she said.

Narcissa looked at her curiously, and Hermione began to spin a lie.

"You see, the prisoners know where… where Draco is, and I need to let them out so that they'll tell me. But I can't free the prisoners without help because I don't have the keys. Toory won't help me because your sister, Bellatrix—"

"No—no—_not Bella!_" cried Narcissa, backing away hurriedly.

Hermione hurried forward, grasping Narcissa's thin arms to keep her within reach but simultaneously trying not to hurt her.

"She's not coming. She's not here," she said hurriedly in an attempt to calm her down. "Don't be scared, Mrs. Malfoy. She's not coming."

Narcissa drew a few deep breaths, eyes darting around the room wildly.

"Bella—Bella isn't here," she said softly.

"No, no she's not," said Hermione.

"Oh, thank Merlin. Will you please save Draco?"

Now that Narcissa had gone back to her previous refrain, Hermione felt that it was safe to continue.

"Bellatrix—_she's not coming_—gave Toory orders not to release the prisoners, so she can't help me. If you tell her to open up the cells, then I'll be able to talk to the prisoners."

"Will you save Draco if the prisoners go?" Narcissa asked, raising her hands to clutch at Hermione's arms, which were still outstretched to support her. "Will you?"

Hermione nodded as tears filled her eyes. "Yes, I will."

"Toory!" Narcissa called.

The house elf appeared. "How may I serve Mistress Narcissa?"

"Release the prisoners," said Narcissa.

Toory nodded and snapped her fingers, disappearing again.

"Thank you," said Hermione.

"No, thank _you_," said Narcissa with a small smile. "I can't wait to see Draco again."

Hermione hurried back out of the room. She wished there was a way for her to help Narcissa, but she wasn't in a much better state herself. She longed to go out to the rose garden and to visit Draco again, but she felt obligated to make sure that all of the students who'd been imprisoned were all right.

She made her way down to the dungeons only to find that all of the barred doors were open, but none of the students had left their cells.

"Voldemort's dead," she said, moving toward the first cell—Lee Jordan's cell.

"L—leave us alone," said Lee.

She frowned and walked down the hall. "It's really me. What should I do to prove it?"

It was silent for a while.

"Aw, fuck it," she heard from just past Blaise's—the real Blaise's—cell.

"Who's that?" she asked.

"Bloody hell, don't fucking do it, Theo!" said Blaise.

Theodore Nott stepped into the corridor, and Blaise leapt out from his cell to shove his friend back into his original cell.

"You're being ridiculous," said Hermione, grabbing Blaise's shoulder and pulling him away from Nott. "I won't hurt any of you. Katie, Parvati, don't you trust me? We've been friends for years."

Then she saw something on Blaise's back that made her gasp.

"What, Mudblood?" asked Nott, seeing her expression.

It was a pink, freshly healed scar in the shape of a perfect circle, just below his right shoulder blade. Bellatrix had brought her the real Blaise _weeks_ ago, in that first "tutorial", and she had had no idea whatsoever.

"N—nothing," she replied as Blaise turned around to face her.

"Are you going to kill me yet? Your lot certainly didn't wait this long to get started on Finnegan," he said.

"Blaise, I wouldn't—"

"_Blaise?_ Who said you could use my first name, Granger?"

Even though she knew that this was a very logical reaction from the real Blaise—after all, she had said to fake-Blaise at the very beginning that she was Granger to him—seeing those words coming out of his mouth still stung her.

"I—I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise.

She continued, "Look, I wouldn't hurt you. I'll even…"

Hermione sighed and pulled out her wand, and Blaise backed up a step. Grasping it by the tip, she held out her wand towards him. The other prisoners had poked their heads out of their cells to watch, curious despite themselves.

"Go ahead," she said. "Take it."

"Bloody hell," Nott breathed from behind his friend.

"The real Granger would never do that. It's too fucking stupid," said Blaise, shaking his head.

"Would it be more likely that a Death Eater would hand over her wand?" challenged Hermione.

Blaise swallowed hard. "This is probably one of those things that's going to kill me as soon as I touch it… isn't it?"

"It's a _wand_."

"Don't take it," said Nott.

Blaise reached out and grabbed the handle, pointing the wand at Hermione.

"Incarcerous!" he shouted.

Ropes materialized and wrapped around her, but she didn't take her eyes off Blaise. Gasps echoed throughout the dungeon as Hermione lost balance and fell to the floor. Blaise was looking down at the wand now.

"Looks like it's a real wand," he said quietly. He looked at the entrance to the place. "Why aren't the Death Eaters coming?" he asked.

"Because Voldemort's dead. Harry won. They're all probably going into hiding," said Hermione.

Katie Bell stepped out of her cell and walked to Blaise's side.

"This is definitely Hermione's wand," she said. "I recognize it."

Lee and a few other students had wandered out of their cells, moving toward Hermione. Then Nott hissed, and Hermione heard several people taking hurried steps backward.

"What?" said Blaise.

Nott stepped around Blaise and squatted next to Hermione. "Whether or not she's the real Hermione, she's a Death Eater," he said.

Hermione realized that when she'd fallen, her left sleeve must have flown up a bit, leaving part of the Mark exposed. Nott hooked his finger around the material and yanked it up, revealing the entire Mark. Hisses sounded throughout the hall.

Blaise took a few steps forward and pointed his wand down at Hermione's face.

"Give me one good reason not to kill you right now," he said.

She looked straight into his eyes and said, "Kill me."

Hesitation flickered in those dark brown eyes, eyes that looked so familiar and yet so foreign at the same time.

"What are you waiting for?" said Nott.

"She won't hurt us," Blaise decided.

"_What?_" Nott exclaimed incredulously, jumping to his feet.

Blaise waved Hermione's wand, and the ropes around her disappeared. She felt disappointed—she'd almost _wanted_ him to kill her right then. She got to her feet and saw that Blaise was holding her wand out for her.

"What are you _doing?_ You could be killing us all!" said Nott.

"Thanks, Bl—Zabini," said Hermione, taking her wand back.

Blaise shook his head. "Don't thank me."

"Is… is You-Know-Who really dead?" asked Parvati from behind Hermione.

Hermione nodded, but she didn't turn around. "Yes. I saw him die."

"Then… then we can really leave," said Katie.

"I'll take all of you to the celebration," said Hermione, finally turning away from Blaise. She couldn't understand what had made him decide not to kill her.

She moved down the hall past a number of students, surprised by how many of them had endured this long. Guilt shot through her when she noticed that Ernie was not among those who followed her out of the dungeons and through the Malfoy Manor. Had he caved in? Or had he been tortured to death?

Hermione brought them all to the gates of the Manor and realized that she had no efficient way of transporting them. She then spent the next twenty minutes Apparating back and forth between the site of the World Cup and the gates of the Manor, bringing the prisoners there by Side-Along Apparition.

Blaise hung back until the very end, leaning against the gates and watching her. Each time she Apparated to the Manor, she noted that he wasn't looking at her, but as soon as she turned her head away, she could practically _feel_ his eyes studying her. And then the question would repeat itself: why had he decided not to kill her?

Finally, it was just the two of them.

"I know what you're thinking," he said when she reappeared the last time.

She didn't reply, just returned his piercing gaze.

"You want to know why I didn't kill you."

"Why didn't you?"

He seemed to consider how much he wanted to tell her. "Consider it a favor for a friend."

She narrowed her eyes. "I'm a Death Eater. You'd let a Death Eater live just as a favor for a friend? That's highly unlikely, especially after being tortured here for so long."

"Highly unlikely, but not impossible. It happened, didn't it?"

Hermione nodded. They stood in uncomfortable silence for a moment, as though they were sizing each other up.

"Here, let me take you to the World Cup," she said finally.

Blaise didn't reply, so she held onto his thin arm and Disapparated.

When they Apparated onto the hill at the boundary of the World Cup, Hermione spotted Harry and Ron heading up toward them.

"Hermione!" shouted Harry, breaking into a run.

"I saw it, I saw everything," said Hermione as he came closer.

Harry pulled Hermione into a hug, and guilt threatened to overwhelm her as she remembered all those times that she'd wished him dead.

"How did you do it?" she asked when he backed up.

Harry was about to speak, but Ron interrupted, "Zabini, what the hell happened to you?"

"The war," said Blaise dryly.

"Ron, don't ask—I'll explain everything to you two later," she said.

Blaise nodded curtly at Hermione before heading off to join Nott at the base of the hill.

When he was out of earshot, Ron said, "He looks awful."

"I want to hear how Harry survived the Killing Curse first," said Hermione.

"It starts with the Battle of Hogwarts, actually," said Harry, and Hermione raised her eyebrows.

Harry launched into an explanation of how he'd left out a piece of information that he'd learned from Snape's memories: the fact that he, Harry, was the seventh and final Horcrux. He'd been terrified of that realization and escaped into the forest, too afraid of death to make that final step. He decided that he'd wait until he was ready to tell someone else about this so that after he died, that someone would be able to kill Voldemort for him.

He explained that he'd been struggling with that knowledge for the whole time since the battle, trying to pluck up the courage to finally tell someone that he was a Horcrux. Then came the day that Zabini asked him to meet Voldemort in one last battle. After seeing just how brutally Zabini's mother was tortured, Harry had told him everything and made him promise that he would kill Voldemort as soon as Harry died.

He didn't want to speak much about what he saw on the other side of the veil—after the Killing Curse had hit him, that is—and Hermione didn't press him. When she asked how he'd made that last Killing Curse rebound on Voldemort, he reminded her of the Deathly Hallows and the Elder Wand.

"So then, since the Elder Wand refused to be used against you when you had no intention of dying, you really are its true owner," said Hermione.

Harry nodded, holding it up. "This is it," he said.

Hermione glanced at it and then looked at Harry. Apparently like they'd both been struggling with dark secrets this year… but she was much less forgivable than Harry. He'd been preparing himself to face his death. Meanwhile, she'd been waiting for the day when she would be able to finally kill him. Yet again, an intense feeling of guilt slashed through her.

Ron, who had been waiting patiently for Harry to explain everything—clearly, he'd heard it all already—finally spoke up. "Now can you tell us what happened to Zabini? He looked like he hadn't had a proper meal in a year!"

Hermione sighed. "The Zabini who's been around us all this time… he's a Death Eater in disguise."

Harry's eyes widened. "But that doesn't make any sense! I told him _everything_. Surely, he should have known—"

"That wouldn't have mattered to him, would it? In fact, he probably would have thought it was a _good_ thing that you were a Horcrux. Then you'd want yourself to be killed, and all he would have to do is _not_ attack Voldemort after you were already dead, because you wouldn't know the difference," said Hermione.

"Oh, you've got a point," said Harry. "So then, where was he tonight?"

"I caught up with him in the maintenance area and Stunned him. And put him under the Full Body-Bind Curse. Actually, you two should probably go get him, before someone else finds him and frees him by accident," she said.

"Just the two of us? Where are _you_ going to go?" asked Ron.

"I… I have to go clear my head," said Hermione.

"But Hermione, Voldemort's dead. It's all over now," said Harry. "All that's left is rounding up the Death Eaters, and now that they don't have a leader—"

"I just can't stay here right now, boys. I'm sorry."

"At least tell us where you're going."

She shook her head.

"You're not going to see Malfoy, are you?" asked Ron heatedly.

Hermione blinked. "What?"

"Ron, shut up," said Harry, elbowing the redhead.

"No, don't shut him up," Hermione said to Harry. Then she turned to Ron and demanded, "What are you talking about?"

"N—nothing," said Ron, looking at Harry.

Hermione glared at the two of them and pointed her wand at Ron. "Tell me."

Ron looked scared, and Hermione groaned in frustration. He was typically so much tougher in front of other people, but for some reason, whenever _she_ pulled a wand on him, he cowered. She turned her attention to Harry.

"Since Ron won't say anything, why don't _you_ tell me what's going on?"

Harry shot Ron a glare before looking at Hermione apologetically.

"Hermione…" he began, but his voice seemed to fail him.

Hermione lowered her wand and watched him impatiently.

He started again. "Hermione, I'm really sorry."

She raised an eyebrow. "About?"

"Hermione, I… I mean, we… we knew."

"Knew what?" said Hermione, exasperated.

"We knew that you and Malfoy had a thing," Ron blurted.

There was a long pause as Hermione tried to process this information. So were they trying to say that… that they knew about her and Malfoy _before_ the Battle of Hogwarts?

"And you still killed him?" she said quietly.

"We had to! He was a _Death Eater_, Hermione," said Ron, looking braver now that she'd lowered her wand. "We thought that after he'd died, your head would clear, and you'd come around."

"It looked like you were getting into your work, too, so we thought—"

"I _loved_ him!" Hermione shouted at them, angry tears filling her eyes as she raised her wand again, pointing it at Harry this time.

Harry shook his head. "No, you can't have—it was all the pressure from looking for Horcruxes. We don't know how it started between you two, but—"

"_Horcruxes?_ When—when did you find out? Draco and I were together _years_ before I even knew what a _Horcrux_ was!"

Harry and Ron exchanged a shocked glance.

"We… it was when we were in the woods," said Ron. "You'd gone to get food, and we were waiting for you to get back."

At his words, Hermione suddenly realized what must have happened.

_Harry and Ron had stayed behind at the tent, as usual. Hermione had left the protected area to find food…_

"We thought we heard footsteps in the distance, but we weren't sure if it was you or not, so we thought it'd be safer not to go out," said Harry.

…_A flash of red light blinded her momentarily… she heard pounding footsteps crashing through the foliage on either side of her…_

"But after waiting a while longer," Harry continued, "we started to get worried, so we left camp to look for you."

"And then we saw you and _him_ holding each other…" said Ron.

_There was a thud, followed by leaves crunching, then another flash of green light. She recognized the voice this time… Hermione got to her feet and threw her arms around him._

"_You saved my life."_

"And it didn't occur to you to just come out and ask me what was going on? I loved Draco—and I still do! We'd been together secretly since… since fourth year!" Hermione exclaimed.

Harry and Ron looked utterly bewildered.

"I _almost_ told you so many times, worried that one of you would kill him by accident. And now it turns out that both of you already _knew_ about it, neglected to _ask_ me about it, and then just decided on your own to _kill_ him!"

"We—we had no idea—"

"If you'd _asked_, then—then—"

The image of Draco's still body, laid out on the cold marble floor, flashed before her eyes, and she quickly closed them. She felt tears running down her cheeks.

Harry hadn't made any motion to defend himself, but Ron had raised his wand to point it at Hermione, looking worriedly between her and Harry. If she really wanted to kill him, she knew she could do it before Ron could do anything to stop her.

Her entire body was trembling, but her wand was steady.

The words were on the tip of her tongue.

No.

As much as she wanted to blame Harry and Ron, this was her fault. If she had just reasoned with those two, maybe she could have made them see just how much she loved him. Maybe he would still be alive.

But that was ridiculously hopeful thinking. Their love wouldn't change the fact that he was a Death Eater, wouldn't change the fact that he belonged to the Dark side. She could have earned their sympathy, but never their support.

"Hermione?" said Ron tentatively, in a voice that was at least an octave higher than his normal voice.

Hermione took a deep breath. She looked up into Harry's bright green eyes. He had killed Draco, knowing that Hermione was with him. Deeply in love or not, it was wrong of him to do that. But did he deserve to die? She recalled Draco's words.

"_It's a war. People are bound to get hurt."_

He was right. She hated it, but he was right.

"Just go," she said, lowering her wand. "I don't want to see you two for a while."

"But Hermione—" began Ron.

Harry gripped Ron's arm, pulling him away. "I'm really sorry, Hermione. If I'd have known—"

"Just get away from me, before I change my mind!" she shouted.

Her two best friends hurried away from her, and she was left standing at the top of the hill, alone. The sounds of the celebrations that drifted out from inside the stadium seemed to be mocking her pain, and she turned away.

Feeling extremely hollow, she lifted her wand to Disapparate.

There was only one place that she wanted to be.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Like the previous chapter, I know this one turned out to be a bit shorter than usual. I think it's the lack of flashbacks in these two—I didn't feel that she would be in the mood or have the time to reminisce with everything that was going on.

The final chapter is coming soon! And it's not another short one, haha. Ahhhh, it's crazy to think this is almost over. I really, really, really hope that you guys don't hate the ending… but we'll just have to wait and see!


	23. XXII The Truth

**Author's Note:** This is the final chapter! Gosh, can't believe I'm ending the first fanfiction I ever wrote! Well, this is the last time I'll say it for this story: read and review! :)

**XXII. The Truth**

_Draco lazily traced patterns on her arm, his long fingers barely touching her. She inhaled deeply, her eyes still closed._

"_Are you awake?"_

_Hermione smiled. "I am now."_

_His arms wrapped around her tightly from behind, and she shivered. He pulled the covers more snugly over her shoulder._

"_Hermione, can I ask you something?"_

_She started to turn in his arms, but he restrained her. "You can ask me anything," she replied._

"_Why do you think it's okay to kill Death Eaters and not other people?"_

_Hermione opened her eyes and blinked a few times before responding, "Are you joking, or are you honestly asking me that question?" When Draco didn't speak, Hermione shook her head. "My God, I can't believe you just asked me that. Well, Death Eaters are murderers. They delight in watching others suffer, watching people writhe in pain. Isn't that reason enough?"_

_Draco was quiet for a moment, and Hermione tried again to turn around. His arms tightened around her, and she saw the Dark Mark on his forearm. Her eyes began to sting as she realized what he was talking about. How could she have been thick enough to miss his point?_

"_Draco, you're not like them. You didn't want this."_

"_I had a choice."_

"_Yes, but—"_

"_Hermione, stop. Don't make excuses for me."_

_They fell silent._

"_I should go," said Draco, pulling his arm out from beneath her._

"_No, don't."_

_Draco got out of bed and pulled on his boxers and pants. When he reached over the bed to pick up his shirt, Hermione sat up and reached out, grabbing his hand._

"_Please stay."_

_Draco's eyes, now filled with longing, were focused on her breasts, and Hermione realized that she was still naked. Draco tore his eyes away from her, pulled his hand out of her grip, and started putting his shirt on._

"_I can't," he said._

_Hermione got off the bed and took his shirt out of his hands. He sighed and started putting his belt on instead. Hermione dropped the shirt back on her bed and reached her arms up around his neck. He moaned as her breasts pressed up against his bare chest._

_She went up on tiptoe to press her lips to his and then drew back to whisper, "Stay with me."_

"_Bloody hell, Hermione," he breathed, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead on hers. "You're going to be the death of me."_

_Hermione looked at him seriously. "You don't mean that."_

_His eyes opened and took in her serious expression. A smirk played across his perfect lips as he teased, "Do you really think I'd die for someone like you? Filthy little Mudblood."_

_She laughed. Only Draco could make those three words sound so affectionate. Then his lips were covering hers. She gasped in surprise as his arms tightened around her, pressing her up against him. She could already feel his arousal up against her stomach, and she parted her lips, allowing him entrance._

_He turned them around and pressed her down onto the bed, lips never leaving hers. As their tongues battled for dominance, Hermione slipped his belt back off. Draco left a trail of kisses down her neck to her collarbone, and she smiled._

"_I guess this means you're staying?"_

"_Shut up, woman," he grumbled, kissing the top of her breast and moving lower._

"_Make me."_

_Right after she said the words, his mouth latched onto one of her nipples, and she moaned with pleasure, arching up against him. After suckling her left breast, he moved on to the other. No matter how many times he did this to her, she still felt the same rush, the same need building up, still let out the same irrepressible moans of pleasure._

_Then his mouth and tongue were on the move again. His tongue swirled once around her bellybutton, and she giggled._

"_That tickles!"_

_He moved down farther, parted her legs, and bit the inside of her thigh. As she gasped, he said, "I thought I told you to shut up."_

_Before she could get in a comeback, he had touched the tip of his tongue to her clit, and she moaned in response. She gasped as he covered the small bunch of nerves with his mouth and began to suck on it. She fisted her hands in his hair and pressed his face harder into her._

_Then he crawled back up to kiss her mouth, and she couldn't suppress the aching disappointment she felt between her legs._

"_You're terrible," she groaned as he trailed his tongue along her jaw and took her earlobe into his mouth. He chuckled in response and traced the outline of her ear with his tongue, making her shiver. She had managed to push his pants down and was now removing his briefs._

_Before she knew it, he was inside her, filling her completely. Her mind seemed incapable of coherent thought, and she drew in a deep breath, arching her back to draw him farther inside her._

_Friction… friction. She needed friction._

"_Draco, please—"_

_That was enough motivation for him, because he started pulling out and shoving back in, his thrusts picking up the pace as they both moved closer and closer to their climaxes. Finally, Hermione threw her head back and cried out his name, and he followed her over the edge, releasing his seed into her with a few last frenzied thrusts before collapsing on top of her._

_They lay quietly for a while, waiting for their breathing to calm down. She stroked his white-blond hair fondly, wishing that he would never have to leave._

"_Hermione…"_

"_Hmm?"_

"_Do you love me?"_

_Hermione bit her lip. She had asked herself that same question just the night before. Draco had slid out of her and shifted to lie next to her, and now he propped up his head with an arm and gazed at her with an unfamiliar expression. Hermione couldn't explain why no words came to mind. She must have had at least a dozen responses prepared last night, in case he asked this question._

"_It's okay. You don't have to answer," he said finally. He smiled and kissed her. "I love you, and that's enough."_

_Then he was on his feet, getting dressed again, and Hermione realized that she couldn't let him leave without telling him how she felt._

"_No," said Hermione._

_Draco turned to look at her, questioning her with his eyes rather than his words._

"_No, it's not enough. My answer's yes—I love you too."_

_They had lasted almost exactly two years without mentioning the L-word, but when she finally spoke it aloud, it felt so good, so right, that she knew there would be no one else for her._

_Hermione stood up and planted a chaste kiss on his lips. "I love you, Draco Malfoy, with all my heart."_

_A sincere smile graced his lips as he leaned down to kiss her again. "See you at the Great Hall in say, twenty minutes?"_

_Hermione smiled. "I love Christmas holidays." She looked around at the empty four-poster beds in her room. "What are we going to do when everyone gets back?"_

"_What we always do."_

"_Harry's going to catch me stealing his Invisibility Cloak one of these days."_

_Draco smirked. "Well, we've gotten around perfectly fine without it in the past."_

_He had shrugged on his oxford shirt and was now working on the buttons. Hermione waited for him to look up, and when he did, she gave him a teasing smile._

"_Oh, I know that look. Don't you distract me again, witch," said Draco as he finished up the buttons._

"_Fine, fine. Be careful on your way out."_

_Draco smirked again. "Don't worry. No one can catch me."_

_As he reached the door, Hermione ran over, threw her arms around him, and gave him another kiss, this one deep and forceful. Their tongues mashed together, and his hands pulled her up against him. When they broke apart, they were panting again._

"_Damn you, Hermione Granger," Draco groaned._

_With that, he wrenched open the door to her room and walked out. Hermione smiled to herself as she shut the door and started getting dressed. Only one thought occupied her mind._

_He said he loved her._

Hermione knelt facing the marble tombstone.

She'd been there for the remainder of the night, reliving her most precious memories with him. That had been the first time they'd ever exchanged those three words, and she wished that she could go back and make that moment last forever.

As the sun's first rays peeked over the horizon, she placed her jade pendant on the ground in front of his tombstone, beside the rose that she'd left the last time she was there.

Then, with her wand pointed at her temple, she smiled lightly. A tear slipped down her cheek.

"I'm coming, Draco," she whispered.

But before she could utter the spell, her wand shot out of her hand.

She didn't move as disappointment washed over her. Then she heard the voice of the person who had Disarmed her and wondered why in the world she ever would have done that.

"Granger. This is all your fault!" Bellatrix shrieked from behind her.

Hermione didn't say anything, didn't even turn around to face the woman.

"This was your plot from the very beginning, wasn't it? Vile Mudblood! Now the Dark Lord is gone, and you have hell to pay!"

"Why don't you just kill me, then?" said Hermione.

"Because I have information that will hurt you more than death, or even the Cruciatus Curse, _ever_ could," said Bellatrix venomously. "Your Draco has been alive for all this time."

Hermione got to her feet and turned around. "No… he—he can't be alive."

"Oh, but he _is_. Tragically for you, he never loved you."

No, she wouldn't believe it. There was no way that he could have survived the Killing Curse. And their love was real. She _knew_ that.

"Do you really think so?" asked Bellatrix.

Hermione remembered belatedly that Bellatrix was a Legilimens, but she didn't even bother to use Occlumency to try to shield her mind.

"I assure you, he's alive. The Blaise Zabini who's been following you around all year? That was my dear nephew's clever disguise."

Hermione shook her head furiously, unwilling to believe it. "If he were alive, he would have come to me. He would have said something to spare me—"

"Except that he _doesn't_ love you and doesn't _care_ how much you suffer. Why do you think he never revealed himself to you in all this time? He's been toying with your emotions, making you wallow in guilt for your feelings toward _Blaise_ when in fact, you were just falling for him a second time. Oh, my nephew has such a wonderfully artistic flair for torture."

Every kiss, every touch, every adoring look in his eyes… how could they all have been lies? All of those promises… they couldn't have meant nothing to him. He couldn't—_no one_ could lie like that. No! She refused to believe it.

"Draco's _dead!_" she said firmly.

Cowardly as it was, she realized that she couldn't accept even the mere _possibility_ that he could have been faking his emotions for her.

"You can choose whether or not to believe me, but I'm telling you the truth," said Bellatrix, smiling sinisterly.

"Please, just kill me," said Hermione.

"No, I don't think I will. It's much more satisfying to see you suffer this way. You gave up _so much_ of yourself, and through it all, he didn't have an _ounce_ of true feelings for you."

Hermione shook her head. "Stop!"

Bellatrix plucked Hermione's wand up off the ground and made to snap it, but a Stunning Spell hit her in the back, and she crumpled. Both wands zoomed out of her unconscious hands.

Hermione looked to the source of the red light and saw Blaise—fake-Blaise.

She choked back a sob and slowly backed away from him. She couldn't take her eyes off him as he pointed his wand at himself. No… no… Bellatrix _couldn't possibly_ have been telling the truth…

Blond hair sprouted from his head as his dark skin slowly transitioned into pale white. He grew about an inch and got slightly slimmer. The bones in his face shifted to become more angular, aristocratic. He blinked once, and liquid silver eyes replaced the dark brown ones of his best mate.

Hermione couldn't breathe, unable to believe her eyes. This _had_ to be a trick. Bellatrix couldn't have been telling the truth. He _couldn't_ have faked all of his emotions for her.

"I thought I'd find you here," he said softly.

Hermione trembled. His voice was so much more beautiful than she'd remembered or imagined. He took a step toward her, and she backed up a step.

They must have been trying to trick her—she was standing _right_ in front of Draco's _grave_, for goodness' sake! It was impossible that he had risen from the dead.

"Hermione, I'm so sorry. I promise, I'll never lie to you again," he said, continuing to move toward her.

She felt as though her feet had been nailed into the ground. Trick or not, her wretched self longed to feel his arms around her again. As soon as she was within reach, he pulled her into an embrace. She inhaled, and his familiar scent filled her nose.

Maybe she'd already died and gone to heaven.

Then she heard her own voice asking him a question, "Was Bellatrix telling the truth?"

"Up until the part where she said I didn't love you, she was," he said after a moment's hesitation.

Hermione forced herself to push him away, and he didn't resist, letting his arms fall away and backing up a step.

"Do you still have the necklace I gave you?" she asked.

"Yes."

"What was special about it?"

"Testing me, are you?" he said. "Whenever you came close to it, it turned from a snake into a lion."

"Where is it now?"

"If no one's touched it, it should be lying on my nightstand."

Hermione sighed. This really had to be him. They hadn't told anyone about the necklace.

"Did I pass the test?" he asked.

"But if… if you're really still _here_, why didn't you _tell_ me?"

"I couldn't. Voldemort—"

"My Occlumency was _solid_. He couldn't have found out."

"I couldn't risk it. Not again."

"What do you mean, not _again_?"

His jaw clenched. "It's a long story."

"You said you wouldn't ever lie again."

"I know. I just… can you hear me out, all the way, before attacking me?"

Hermione blinked. "This is going to make me want to _attack_ you?" she asked.

"I'm just asking for some patience."

"I'm a little short on patience at the moment. I just found out that I've been worrying myself _sick_ over getting revenge for someone who's _not even dead_, and _couldn't be bothered_ to tell me so."

Pain was evident in his expression, but Hermione refused to let it get to her. She didn't _want_ to believe it, but for all she knew, Bellatrix could have been telling the truth. After all, he _had_ spent almost an entire year by her side without saying a word about his identity.

"I'm really, really sorry," he said.

"Just get on with it."

"Can we go somewhere else?"

"Where do you want to go?"

"Home."

She felt like the word had stabbed her. They'd been alone together at their shared home so many times, and he'd never bothered to tell her _anything_.

"No. We're not going anywhere until I know what happened. There's no way you survived the Killing Curse—that's another thing you have to explain. Now get started with your story."

"What did you want to hear first?"

"I don't _care_," she said. "As long as it's the truth, I don't _care_ what order I hear it in."

"I'll just start from the beginning, then."

Hermione looked at him and suddenly felt like she couldn't breathe. She spun around to face away from him and realized that she was still standing right in front of his grave. She took a deep breath and waited for him to start talking.

"A few nights after the end of fourth year, Voldemort came to my home."

Oh, Merlin. Hermione already didn't like where this was going. It started _this_ early on?

"He asked my father to let him speak to me. Commanded it, rather. I didn't have a clue what Occlumency was at the time. He sorted through all of my thoughts and… and he found you. After seeing what had happened between the two of us, he gave me a job to do. I was supposed to get you to turn against Potter and join us."

"You said that this… this happened during _fourth_ year?"

"_After_ fourth year, but yes."

"Then everything that happened after that… it was all…"

"Hermione please, just listen to me."

She clamped her mouth shut, still not facing him. Her eyes filled with years yet again, and she furiously tried to blink them away. He'd been _using_ her. She was a _job_ to him.

"I fell in love," he said quietly. "It happened sometime between the end of fifth year and the beginning of sixth year. I'd already been working on Occlumency by then, so I was able to hide it from him."

The first time they'd admitted their love for each other was during Christmas holidays of their sixth year, Hermione recalled.

"I hid it all through the year after we left school, too. I hid the flat that we got together, everything. But towards the end of that year, Voldemort got really impatient. He said that it wasn't likely that you would ever join the Dark side, and I couldn't lie to him. I said it would never happen. I think I was tired that day, but he managed to breach some barriers in my mind. He saw that I'd fallen in love, and… he didn't appreciate that very much."

Hermione wondered how long and how severely he had been tortured.

"Then he came up with a plan to fake my death."

"And why would he do that?" Hermione asked.

He sighed deeply. "So that you would want revenge on the Order."

Hermione stiffened. She had played right into their hands. She'd done exactly as she was supposed to, just like the little pawn she was, hadn't she? Merlin, how could she have been so stupid?

"How did you survive the Killing Curse?" she asked in a deceptively calm voice.

"I didn't."

"I clearly saw you in the Forbidden Forest that night."

"That was some poor scapegoat that they'd forced to drink the Polyjuice Potion. They put him under the Imperius Curse and sent him out into the Forest."

"Then… the person who rescued me from Rookwood—"

"That was the real me. I didn't leave the castle during the fight. After killing Rookwood, I hid in the Room of Requirement until the fight was mostly over. Then I went out into the woods and took the Draught of Living Death."

Of _course_. The Draught of Living Death sent the drinker into a deep trance that would mimic the state of death. That explained why she had thought him to be dead when they brought his body into the Manor that night.

"How and why did you turn into Blaise?"

"Hermione, can we please not do this here? Even though it's not real, I'm not particularly fond of standing in front of my own grave."

She turned back around to look at him and immediately regretted it. Merely seeing his face again made her heart soften. Maybe she shouldn't be so hard on him—after all, it was as if he'd come back from the dead. Maybe she should just be glad to have him back.

"No," she replied. "You let me suffer for almost an entire year. You can stand in front of your grave for a few extra minutes while you explain this to me."

"Fair enough," he said, glancing at the headstone and grimacing. "After faking my death, I thought they'd be done with me, but Voldemort said that he needed someone to keep you going in the right direction. Since they figured I knew you best, they told me to choose a disguise. I picked Blaise because… because he's most like me. It'd be easy to turn into him."

"How did you do it?"

"Human Transfiguration. It was hard, but I managed it."

"Did Blaise—the real Blaise, I mean—did he know that you were using his identity?"

He shook his head. "No. Voldemort didn't want anyone to know that I was alive."

"But last night, Blaise had a chance to kill me, and he didn't. Why—"

"Do you remember what I said when I was Blaise? All that talk about Draco asking me to take care of you? It was true. I told him that I might not survive the Battle at Hogwarts, and if he ever escaped, he was to take care of you for me."

"But you knew that you weren't going to die."

"Yes, but I didn't know that I'd still get to see you," he said. "I thought that once I'd died, they'd want me to stay dead."

"I suppose that makes sense," said Hermione. "Out of curiosity… was the memory you showed me, the one where your father tortured Blaise's mother… was that real?"

He nodded.

"But Blaise didn't really join Voldemort to save his sister. What happened to her?"

"Blaise doesn't have a sister. He's an only child."

Hermione gaped at him. She'd never thought to check whether or not Blaise really had a sister—it had never even _occurred_ to her that he might have been lying about that.

"My father destroyed his only living relative. He swore never to join Voldemort."

"Then why didn't the Death Eaters kill him?"

"My Aunt Bellatrix loves torture. But you knew that already."

Hermione sighed and switched her attention back to getting answers. "And then the binding rituals… I suppose they were to get me to lower my guard against you. They made you my… my _slave_ so that I would feel guilty. Was that it?"

"Yes," he said, looking extremely apologetic.

"Was the binding magic real?"

"Yes. But I'm a Malfoy, and the potion recognizes our blood. So if I _really_ didn't want to follow an order, I didn't have to. That's why sometimes your commands didn't work."

"Were you telling the truth when you said that… that every time you close your eyes, you see my face?"

He nodded. "Anything else?"

She thought for a moment before asking, "What did you tell Voldemort to convince him to go with our plan for the World Cup? And why was he so angry with you?"

He sighed. "It was because he saw me kissing you. He'd decided in the beginning that it was safe to send me out to supervise you because he thought he'd tortured all the love right out of me. But he didn't understand that love can't just be tortured away. When he saw the kiss, he thought…"

"Thought that you'd fallen for me again?" Hermione supplied.

"Basically, yes."

Hermione recalled that glimpse of fear she'd caught right before their kiss. "You knew, even before you kissed me that time, that he would think that. Didn't you?"

He nodded.

"Then why did you still…?"

"I couldn't resist it. I saw you right in front of me, eyes shut, and I wanted to pretend that we were still together."

His eyes were filled with sorrow as he finished speaking. She couldn't look away. Staring into those silvery-grey pools, her worries slowly slipped out of her mind.

When he looked away and broke the silence between them, she felt like something had been shattered.

"I'm really sorry for lying so much. There were so many lies, from the beginning. I promise, I haven't kept anything from you this time around," he said. "But if you can't forgive me—"

"You _did_ try to give me a hint, didn't you?" said Hermione, interrupting him. "You warned me not to get revenge on Harry, because you thought I would regret it."

"I knew I was going to have to come clean if Voldemort died because I'd go to the Manor and free all the students there. As soon as you saw Blaise, you'd know that I wasn't the real one. And with Voldemort gone, there'd be no reason to lie anymore. I didn't want you to finally make up your mind to kill Potter, only to find that I was still alive."

"I came so close to killing him tonight."

"Last night, technically. It's morning now," he said, looking up at the sky.

Hermione frowned, remembering how she'd left him Stunned and Bound under the stands. "Did Harry and Ron go get you?" she asked.

"Yes."

"How did you get away from them?"

"I told them everything. It took practically all night to convince them that I wasn't lying. And I had to transfigure myself back and forth a few times too. Potter's all right, I guess. The Weasel's staying a weasel."

Hermione laughed.

"I still want to pummel him for touching you."

"That was months ago."

"Doesn't mean it never happened. He wasn't punished for it."

"I'd almost forgotten how jealous you could get," said Hermione with a small smile.

"Do you believe me, then?" he asked, looking at her hopefully.

She nodded. "I think so, yes."

"That's a relief," he said. "But… if you can't forgive me, then what I said when I was pretending to be Blaise… it all counts. I won't make you stay."

She looked at him as though she was seriously considering it, but how could he _honestly_ think that she would ever give him up, knowing that he was alive? Hadn't he seen all the pain that she'd gone through in the past months because of his supposed death?

"I might have to think about it," she said, keeping a straight face.

He nodded as though he had expected that to be her reply.

She reached both her hands up and ran them slowly through his soft, silver-blond hair. The real thing was better than any memory that she'd had.

Then she pulled his head toward hers and lifted herself up on tiptoe to plant a light kiss on his lips. She drew back, a little shaken. It had been the lightest touch, but she felt as though sparks were flying all through her body. This was her Draco, there was no doubt about it.

She gave him a small smile.

"Did you really believe I'd have to think about it, even after all that time I spent moping about your death and plotting how to avenge you?"

He looked surprised. "But I—"

"Didn't you notice that I fell for you a second time when you were pretending to be Blaise, even though you had a different face, and I tried my hardest to stop it from happening? How could I ever possibly let you leave me, now that I know you're alive?"

He seemed to have a hard time registering her words, so she pulled him into another kiss. He remained unresponsive, so she nipped at his lower lip, taking a step forward to press herself up against him as she forced her tongue into his mouth.

Oh, she'd forgotten how much like heaven he tasted.

His hands circled her waist, pulling her closer, and desire flared to life inside her. It had been too long since they'd last had each other.

When he pulled his head back, she all but whined in disappointment.

"I'd feel a lot better if we weren't doing this in front of my grave," said Draco, smirking.

She'd missed that smirk so much.

"Your place, then?" she said.

Draco grinned, and they started toward the Manor.

He handed her wand back to her, and she stowed it in her robes. After placing a Full Body-Bind Curse on his aunt, he levitated her body and brought it along with them.

"Oh, right," said Hermione, remembering Narcissa Malfoy's state. "Your mother—"

He sighed. "Yes, I know. My aunt told me about what happened to her."

"She kept asking me to save you—she thought that you were still alive."

"Yes, I know. I spoke to her briefly. She's not really mad—she just wanted me to stop following Voldemort's orders, kept saying that it would get me killed, just like my father."

"She's very skilled at acting mad, then," Hermione said.

"She told me about her encounters with you. She wanted you to find out my identity, but my aunt put some spell on her that prevented her from telling you directly."

They entered the house, and Toory appeared instantly.

"Young Master!" she squeaked, a look of adoration of her face. "Young Master is back!"

"Yes, I'm back," said Draco.

Hermione stared at the two of them. Then she asked Toory, "You knew that he was still alive?"

Toory blinked and looked at Draco, who nodded. She nodded vigorously. "Toory knew, but Toory was told never, ever, ever to tell. Unless Young Master or Mistress Bellatrix said so."

"Take my aunt down to one of the dungeons and lock her up inside. If she tries to summon you, don't go. And if you do go, you are not, under any circumstances, no matter what she tells you, allowed to free her," said Draco.

"Yes, sir! Toory lives to serve Young Master!"

The house elf snapped her fingers and marched out of the room with Bellatrix's body floating behind her.

Draco grabbed Hermione's hand and started walking down the hall.

"Where are we going?" Hermione asked.

"To finish what we started."

"Don't you want to talk to your mother first, let her know that you're all right?"

"That can wait. Everything can wait," he replied. Then he stopped suddenly and spun around. "Unless there's anything you want to do instead, of course," he said.

Instead of replying, she gave him a quick peck on the lips, tugged her hand out of his grasp, and sprinted down the hall toward the stairs that led to the second floor. She heard him laughing behind her as he chased her up the stairs and toward his bedroom.

He caught up to her as they reached their destination, and once inside the room, he tackled her onto the bed.

Their lips met in a searing kiss, and Hermione lost herself, sinking into blissful paradise.

Her fingers deftly worked their way down his chest, undoing the buttons of his shirt. He broke their kiss to tug her shirt up over her head. She pushed his shirt off his shoulders, and he struggled to free his arms from it while she ran her hands all over his torso, relearning every muscle and scar and reveling in the feeling of his smooth, hot skin against hers.

His lips captured hers again, and her hands wandered lower, toward his belt buckle. He caught her hands, stopping her.

"Slow down," he murmured huskily.

"I can't wait," she said, cutting off his reply with another kiss.

She pulled her hands free of his and unbuckled his belt, and he kissed his way down her neck as he unclasped her bra. She undid the button of his pants, and pushed the zipper down.

Then she was distracted by a trail of openmouthed kisses across her right breast. His teeth nipped lightly at her nipple, and she gasped as pleasure surged through her. His talented tongue worked her nipple up to a perky nub. Her hands caressed his back as she let him know through her moans just how much she wanted him. As he kissed his way to her other breast, she realized that he had grabbed his wand. With a flick, the rest of their clothes Vanished.

"Hey," she managed to say between gasps, "I really—ohh, god—liked that pair of—_oh my god, Draco!_—of pants."

She fisted her hands in his hair and tugged his head back up to reclaim his lips. She ground her hips against his and felt his hard member against the inside of her thigh. Her own arousal was already dripping out of her opening.

She pushed him to the side, rolling them over so that she was straddling his hips. With one swift motion, she impaled herself on him.

"Ohhh, _yes!_" she cried.

"_Fuck_, Hermione!" he groaned in response.

She lifted her hips and sat back down again, and they both moaned.

Then he pulled her upper body down against his and rolled them back over so that he was on top. Before she could protest, he pulled out and thrust deep inside her, and she moaned in pleasure. He started pumping in and out of her, and she ground her hips in rhythm with his, drawing him in deeper.

Her nails scraped down his back as she begged for him to move faster. He groaned in a mixture of pleasure and pain and bit down at the base of her neck before soothing it with his tongue. Their pace increased frantically, the pleasure mounting until it was almost unbearable.

She'd never experienced these feelings so acutely before—it was almost as though the pleasurable sensations redoubled each time he plunged into her.

He slightly shifted the angle of his hips so that with each thrust, he hit that perfect spot. In seconds, she was screaming his name, clinging to him in an attempt to stay anchored to earth as her mind and soul shot off into the abyss.

When she regained her senses, she realized that he had collapsed on top of her, still breathing heavily. She rubbed his back soothingly and kissed his shoulder, and he propped himself up on his elbows to look at her. She stared up into his grey eyes and smiled.

She'd never felt so complete before.

_I told you so_, he said in her head.

She blinked, surprised. She'd forgotten about the mental connection between them.

_What did you tell me?_

He lowered his head so that his lips hovered by her ear.

"I _told_ you that sex would be amazing," he whispered.

It took Hermione a moment to remember just when he had said that, and he lifted his head so that he could see her expression.

"You're a terrible person," she said, but she couldn't stop herself from smiling. "How could you try to seduce me while you were pretending to be your best friend?"

"You were right," he said, grinning. "That time, I really _was_ testing you."

"You're_ despicable_."

"But you love me for it."

She smiled and pulled his head down for a kiss.

His voice sounded again in her head, softer this time as he projected the three words that she wanted most to hear.

_I love you_.

No, there was no way that she would ever let him go. No matter what the future held for them, she knew that everything would be all right, as long as they had each other.

_I love you, too._

* * *

**Author's Note:** I know the ending was somewhat sappy, but what can I say? I'm a sucker for happy endings. I _feel_ like I addressed everything that really needed addressing, but if you still have questions or think I missed something, definitely let me know in a review. I hope I didn't leave out anything big… I can go back and edit, but I'd really prefer to leave it like this.

Hopefully this wasn't too disappointing of an ending, and I hope you guys had fun reading this. Thank you to everyone who stuck around from the beginning (despite the long chapters) and left reviews—they really meant a lot to me, and although I didn't really _need_ encouragement to keep writing, it definitely didn't hurt to have some :) You guys are amazing!


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